A New Way to Bleed
by MiniHayden
Summary: After the Promised Day, Armstrong ordered all trace of it to be erased. Every last detail was hidden, at least until Maes makes a discovery about his father's past that could change his view on alchemy forever. Selim's not all himself either, and sooner or later he'll have to give in to what his 'dreams' are telling him. And why is Elysia so determined to find her father's killer?
1. Maes

**Me: Hi everyone!**

**Danny: It's been a long time since you started a fic, Hayden.**

**Me: And a long time since I've written something for Fullmetal, even though this is the first one I've decided to upload. And anyway, why are _you _still here, Danny? **

**Danny: … I'm your stalker. I shall follow you everywhere.**

**Me: Even if it means leaving your own fandom?**

**Danny: *shrugs* I guess.**

**Me: Well, anyway *turns to readers* so this fic is basically the next generation of Fullmetal Alchemist, set about thirteen years after episode 64/chapter 108. I'm trying my best include as little OCs as I can, but sometimes it just can't be helped, y'know? Also, a lot of people know me in the fandom I usually write for, so they're aware of the fact THAT I'M BRITISH AND I SPELL THINGS DIFFERENTLY. *coughs* It's just that I get so many PMs telling me that I spell stuff wrong and it annoys me, because, to me, it's right. That's all.**

**Danny: We won't leave you waiting any longer!  
>Me: On with the fic!<strong>

_**A New Way to Bleed Chapter 1: Maes **_

"Daddy's home!"

"Nina, get back from the door! How am I supposed to let him in if you're in the way?"

Winry Elric pushed her five-year-old daughter gently to her left and slid the key into the lock. It turned with a small 'click' as she opened it and the green wooden door swung outwards, revealing a blonde man in his thirties.

Nina dropped her teddy and threw herself at her father, tackling him with a bear hug.

"Hey, kiddo," Edward smiled, putting his suitcase on the floor, "How've you been?"

"Mummy taught me how to make apple pie!" she squealed happily, bouncing up and down.

"I'll take that as 'good', then," he replied, laughing.

The man looked up at Winry, who was still standing where she was originally. She gave him a smile, and he returned it tiredly as he stepped through the doorway.

"You know," Winry took his coat, "three months is a long time for these kids. You almost missed Maes' thirteenth. You do realise it's tomorrow, right?" Her voice had some kind of hidden edge to it, which her husband instantly picked up on.

"Yeah," Ed blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. For all he knew, Winry could be really mad at him. You could never tell when she would hit him on the head with one of her wrenches. "Sorry about that," he apologised, "Al called me from Xing. He and May are finally getting married. I went over there personally to give them my congrats and stuff."

"Oh really?" Winry's attitude seemed to change, "what about all those Xingese laws that say royalty can't marry the commoners?"

"Yeah, but there's a new emperor," Edward replied, smirking, "from the Yao Clan."

"What? Ling?" Winry said, disbelief written all over her face.

The man nodded, trying not to laugh. "I was there when he was crowned. Quite boring though, but a good after-party."

"Wish I could've been there," Winry muttered as he paused.

"And Mustang's only one rank away from Fuhrer now," Ed carried on, he hadn't heard his wife's last comment. He laughed slightly, "it seems like everyone's getting what they wanted. Except he has to wait for Armstrong to either die or give up her position, which I don't think she'll do for quite a while."

"What about Armstrong's kid? How old is he now?"

"I dunno," Edward shrugged, "I haven't been to central in ages. But I guess he's roughly about five or so. Maybe you should give Gracia a call and ask, Elicia _does_ babysit him sometimes… she would know."

Winry nodded, putting her coffee mug down on the table. "Did you want to try some of Nina's apple pie? I got it out of the oven just two minutes ago."

"That would be awesome," he replied, "I'm starving!"

Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen hadn't changed much at all since Edward and Winry were children. Most of the appliances had to have been replaced, but apart from that, it was basically the same.

"Maes!" Winry called out to what appeared to be the ceiling as Ed sat down at the table, "your father's home! Come and say hi, will you?"

There was no reply for a while, but they soon heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and a boy appeared in the entrance to the kitchen.

Maes Elric had a slightly darker shade of blonde hair than both of his parents, much like his uncle, Alphonse. It was fairly long for a boy, falling down to just below his shoulders. His choice to keep it tied back was the same as his father's, although a braid (as rare as it was for Edward to have one now) was out of the question. A simple ponytail was enough for him. His eyes were clearly from his mother's side of the family – a bright, brilliant blue.

"You're getting taller, you know that, don't you?" Edward said as his son walked further into the room.

"Hey," came the short reply, completely ignoring the question.

"Pie?" Winry asked, holding up the plate in her oven gloves, "Nina made it for us."

"Although Mummy helped a little bit with the hot stuff," Nina added, blushing. She knew that Maes always loved things that she'd 'cooked all by herself'.

The five-year-old's hair colour and length matched Winry's almost exactly, but lately she had been putting it up into two bunches. Her eyes were stunning shade of gold – a peculiar colour for an Amestrian, but Edward was just the same.

"In that case then, I'll give it a try," Maes ruffled his younger sister's hair.

He took a slice from his mother and sat down at the table with a fork, opposite his father.

Although, as he liked to view it, as far away from Edward as possible.

If Maes spoke honestly, he wasn't sure what to make of his father. Most of the time Ed was abroad travelling and researching things he knew next to nothing about. Whenever he _was_ home, interaction between the two was rare and they often just made small talk. Things like "how's school?", or "what did you do yesterday?". The boy's answers were always short, too. And then his father was gone again, often for weeks at a time. He didn't know much of his family, either. He supposedly had an uncle, but the last time he had 'seen' him was when he was very young. Alphonse Elric was just a blurry, distorted memory somewhere in his past. Maes often asked about his grandparents too, but his answer was always that they all lived in Drachma, and because of the war going on it would be hard to visit them.

Nina was too young to ask about their family properly, but she (like her older brother) had started to question the fact that neither of them had left Resembool in their lives. They'd both seen photos of the city known as 'Central' though, and the military there. Maes thought the Fuhrer looked a slight bit too threatening for a woman, so, against the fact that his mother called it 'sexist', he had given her the nickname 'shemale'. It wasn't really _too_ offensive – the family often used it around the house as one of their inside jokes. But if any officials who seemed to visit the house now and then caught them using the word, well, they'd be in trouble.

There was a man in the military Maes did seem to be able to relate to though – General Mustang. He didn't know much about him, but he seemed like the kind of person who wasn't afraid of anything. Apparently he was the one in charge of the Ishbalan campaign, according to one of the two Ishbalan twins who went to his school. They had moved to Resembool just after Maes was born about thirteen years ago.

"This is really great Nina," Edward said through a mouthful of food, "you did a great job."

"Thanks Daddy!" Nina said happily, taking a fork-full herself, "Mummy told me I could make more next weekend for the sheep festival! I'm gonna sell it and be rich!"

"Are you now?" Ed laughed.

"Oh," Winry suddenly said from her end of the table, "that reminds me, Ed. You got a call from Central yesterday."

"Really?" Edward looked up from his snack, curious, "who from?"

"That's the bit that concerns me slightly. It was from Mrs Bradley."

Edward dropped his fork, his still wide open.

"Who's Mrs Bradley?" Maes asked his mother.

"It's none of your concern, Maes," Winry replied, unusually sharply, "are you OK, Ed?"

"Yeah, sorry." Ed grunted and picked up his cutlery, "it's just that I haven't heard from her since… well, I haven't heard from her at all for ages."

"That's probably because Armstrong's personally sorting it out herself ever since Grumman was killed seven years ago. She doesn't like you very much, you know."

"What?" Maes had never heard this before, "why? Since when did Dad know the Fuhrer?"

"It's _none of your concern_, Maes," Winry repeated.

"What… what was the call about?" Ed asked.

"Oh, nothing much," Winry's speed of speech seemed to become slower and more forceful – as if it had another meaning, "her son's just been having a few bad dreams, that's all."

Bad dreams? Maes was really confused, but he decided against asking his mother again. Whatever they were talking about was _definitely_ important – he could tell that even in Winry's voice, even if it seemed innocent enough. And whoever this 'Mrs. Bradley' woman was was obviously very important to his father for some reason that was big enough to make him drop something in surprise.

"I might make a visit to Central, then," Edward decided, "but Al is coming back from Xing for a short stay. I don't know when he's going to arrive…"

"You mean Al's returning to Amestris?" Winry asked, "after all this time?"

"Yeah…" Ed replied, clearly thinking, "should be soon… around the time of the sheep festival next week maybe…? I'm not sure. I'll pay a visit to the Bradleys after then."

"Isn't that great, guys?" Winry turned to her two beloved children, smiling, "you're going to meet your uncle!"

Maes was genuinely surprised. His parents seemed so casual about it, strange after the weird moment about the son with the bad dreams. And he wasn't sure how he was going to greet his uncle. Clearly, Alphonse Elric would remember him, but Maes didn't have much of an idea of what he looked like. The latest photos the family had of him were from when he was about ten or so, then after that he seemed to disappear from the pictures altogether. There was_ one_ photo though, as he was told, with them altogether as a family –including that fiancé of his, but Alphonse had taken it to Xing with him when he left.

"Yay!" Nina gave a happy little squeal, "Uncle! Uncle!"

"Well, anyway," Winry stood up, taking her plate to the sink, "I have an arm to work on for someone coming in in a few days, and you'll probably need your leg seen to, Edward. Knowing you, it hasn't been maintained since you left."

That was another problem that often made Maes wonder – his father's prosthetic leg. Winry was an amazing automail mechanic and a lot of people often came to her when they needed a new metal limb fitted. But Maes liked it when they brought with them exciting stories about what happened to them. He could sympathize with them and help them feel better while they went through all the pain and the fever that came with the operation. Edward didn't have a great story about how he came to lose most of his left leg. According to him, he lost it during an explosion during the Eastern rebellion, and that was that. No dramatic adventure or anything, just how he met Winry. Which, to a boy of twelve, wasn't something especially entertaining. Whenever Ed was home, his mother always nagged about his lack of consideration for her 'beautiful work of art' at one point or another.

Winry picked up her daughter – who she knew loved watching her make the automail, and walked towards the door to the basement.

"You coming, guys?" she asked as it swung open.

"I've got this pie to finish," Ed said, "I'll be down in a minute."

"I'll… pass," Maes said, "I'm gonna go back upstairs and finish my book."

"Well… Ok then," Winry replied, slightly sadly, and left the room with her daughter in her arms.

"Since when did you like reading?" Edward asked before he took another mouthful of pie.

"Haven't you heard of a new hobby?" Maes replied, slightly sarcastically, "I started while you were gone."

"Really?" his father seemed genuinely interested in his son's new-found interest, "what were you just reading?"

"Just one of Mum's old kid stories from when she was little," he answered, "we don't have anything else besides that and automail instruction books, and they're boring."

"So you're not thinking of taking up the family business, then?"

"Not at all," Maes folded his arms, "It's way too complicated."

"I'm sure I could teach you a bit myself," Ed offered, "it's not that hard, once you get past the first stage."

"But you're never _here_! You're always off somewhere with that brother of yours or someone I still haven't met."

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't introduced you to Al yet, OK? You'll meet him very soon, as you know. I'll take you to his wedding if you like, alright?"

"Dad, I don't even know my own grandparentsand Ihaven't even left _Resembool_ in my life."

"Look Maes, Amestris is a dangerous place at the moment. There's a war in Drachma-"

"But that's all the way up in the north!" Maes protested.

"And Central's the command base for it!" his father argued back.

"So why are you going up there to see Mrs. Bradley after Uncle Alphonse gets here? Can't I _at least_ come withyou? _Please_? It can't be that bad if _you're_ going."

Ed sighed, tired from his long journey home. Back when he was Maes' age, he'd argue a lot. Sometimes he even got a form of enjoyment out of it. But it was starting to get old for him and he just couldn't be bothered. He had more important things to attend to.

"Fine," he said reluctantly, "I'll take you, but you need to stay with me _all_ of the time. Like I said, it's dangerous there." Edward stood up, deciding to ignore Maes' answer in case it came with a witty comment, and put his now empty plate by the sink, walking down into the basement to get his leg seen to.

A smile formed on Maes' face. Finally, he had a way out of his tiny hometown. He'd take the opportunity to find out his father's relationship with that shemale Fuhrer and learn exactly what research he's ditched his own children for.

_Yes_, he thought smugly to himself, _this is going to be a _very_ exciting little trip_.

**Danny: So that was the first chapter!**

**Me: The first three are going to be kind of introducing the three main charcters in this fic, the next one being little Pride (I love him so much XD) and Elicia. You know the three prologues in Soul Eater? Yeah, kind of like that. Until next time though, leave a little review for me! I want to see how many people are interested in this fic :3 **


	2. Selim

**Me: Chapter 2 time!**

**Danny: Yes! :3**

**Me: Before I leave you to read, here's a note for nyc2dragon: Trisha and Hoho both had something to do with human transmutation and the philosopher's stones. Winry's parents were both killed by Scar during the Ishbalan rebellion. Therefore, it's all to do with the promised day. If you still don't understand, the fic explains it all anyway as it goes. Thanks for the review and I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**Danny: And let's kick off chapter two!**

**Me: WAIT. Disclaimer first. I think I forgot last time. (Disclaimer) If I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, my little baby Pride would get much more screen time. 'Nuff said.**

_**A New Way to Bleed, Chapter 2: Selim**_

"What a foolish question," the boy laughed, one hand covering his right eye, "of course I'm going to obey my father. He gave me life."

"Ha!" There was another boy on the ground next to where he was standing – a blonde one. He looked older than the other black haired boy. Something was wrapped around his left arm, stopping him from moving it.

"You're the foolish one," the blonde said. "You've completely stopped thinking for yourself! Compared to you, Greed is much more evolved."

The younger boy's eyes widened with surprise and rage and suddenly the blonde flew up into the air, slamming into a wall. He gasped in pain, winded.

"I don't… I just don't get it," the older boy carried on, "I don't understand why you're still listening to him." Despite the fact that he was the one being attacked, the blonde still looked up defiantly at him, taking in the bruises and cuts on the other younger boy's body. "You've taken quite a beating carrying out his orders, but he hasn't even given you a chance!"

"What's your point?" Suddenly the world became distorted as the black haired child moved his hand away from his face. The room seemed to twist in all directions, constantly shifting and turning. Things began to blur as everything moved as fast as someone could blink and it was starting to get darker, despite the fact there was light shining in somewhere from the ceiling.

Selim woke up with a start, panting.

His back was wet with sweat and his breathing was out of control. He could only get short, sharp bursts into his lungs and that just made him panic even more and gasp wildly, screaming at the top of his voice.

"Selim!" His mother's voice drew closer as she ran towards his room. She burst through the door and rushed straight to his bed, and threw her arms around him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, checking his temperature by putting her hand on his forehead, "are you alright? You feel a bit cold, dear."

The boy looked anxiously around his bedroom. No lights were on, but the silver glow of the moon filtered in through the window and he could see his mother's slightly wrinkled face, eyes wide with worry for her child.

"I… I don't know," Selim confessed. He was fifteen, but he had always somehow felt a special connection with his mother. He never even pondered the fact that she was considerably older than most of his friend's mothers at school. He knew he could trust her with anything. "I had another nightmare…" he said, still trying to calm his breathing, "there was another kid – about my age, and he was on the floor. I saw something throw him against the wall and I think he told me that I was foolish and then I got really angry after he said something about my father and-"

"Shhh, Selim. Calm down. It was just a bad dream." It didn't faze Selim at all that his mother was soothing him like a young child. Instead, he held her just as tight as she held him, weeping into her shoulder.

After a few minutes he broke away from Mrs Bradley, tears still streaming down his face. The boy felt his breathing begin to slow down and his body relaxed.

"It's six-thirty," his mother observed, squinting at the alarm clock that sat beside his bed, "did you want to go downstairs? I don't think you'll get back to sleep now." She smiled at him, soft and warm.

Selim nodded slowly. He had always clung onto his mother, ever since he was born. As he had grown up other children had sometimes even bullied him for it, but he was often pulled out of schools by various government officials for reasons he didn't know. That had given him more chances to start again.

His father, as he had been told many times, had left his mother before he was born to be with another woman – he have been living all his life with only a single parent. It hadn't bothered him much at first, but as he grew older Selim then had begun to have nightmares that mentioned the word 'Father' a lot – dreams that seemed so vivid it was almost like they were real. Someone would always be fighting him, or talking to him about things he didn't understand. And when he awoke, he would often forget most of it. Unlike tonight's dream, he would only remember the terrifying feeling of overwhelming darkness, and sometimes even the stench of somebody else's fear. He could never recall any faces. And that made him feel even worse – not being able to remember just what had scared him so much.

Mrs Bradley went to fetch her son's jacket from across the room while Selim got out from under his blankets.

He shivered as his feet touched the floor, even if there was carpet, it was still cold. In fact, the whole room felt like it was below zero.

When he tried to stand up, his legs wobbled shakily and he collapsed back onto the bed, head spinning. He felt dizzy again.

"Selim!" his mother rushed back with a black jacket and sat him up, placing it around his shoulders.

The boy murmured in thanks, sliding his cold arms into the sleeves. He felt his mother put something on his feet that were most likely slippers, but he couldn't care less.

The dream he had just had was the most real ever. He could remember almost _everything_. And he had spoken to someone about his father, who he didn't even know. And why would he obey him? He didn't even know his father. No photos, letters, nothing.

When Selim was eight, his house had been burned down in a fire. That was where he guessed all his mother's keepsakes about Mr Bradley were, although she never claimed for insurance. She had started anew that day, moving into the heart of Central City in a fourth-floor luxury apartment that Selim still didn't get where she had found the money for. Why she had kept her title as 'Mrs' or the last name 'Bradley' the boy did not know, but for some reason, the fact never bothered him. He was still Selim Bradley, and he thought the name quite suited him.

"Selim, you're freezing!" Mrs Bradley held her hand to his pale cheek to check again, "let's go and get you some hot chocolate. It's a bit early for it, I know, but I think I'll make an exception this time."

The black haired boy nodded slowly, his teeth beginning to chatter. He was always cold following the nightmares, but never this much. Crossing his arms and hunching over to get deeper into the thick jacket, Selim followed his mother out of the room, his small feet scuffling along the floor.

He and his mother's apartment covered the entire floor, so the distance from his room to the kitchen was still fairly average compared to that of a normal house. Inside, it was up to date with the latest cooking equipment, with a telephone and radio on the wall at the back as well.

Mrs Bradley went straight to one of the higher-up cupboards, pulling out a jar of chocolate powder from the back of the shelf.

To help, Selim filled a kettle with some milk and put it onto the stove. It was hard for him to reach with his lower line of sight – he looked very young for his age, but if he stretched far enough on his tip-toes he could turn the gas on. In fact, some people said he could pass himself off for a ten-year-old. His face still had a lot of baby fat, and there was a faint red mark in the centre of his forehead, which had faded as he grew older. A birthmark, he and his mother had decided together. Nothing more. After all, what else could it have been? It didn't matter anyway – it was barely visible now. His eyes were a striking dark shade of purple, still wide and inquisitive. He was everything like a young boy, except he wasn't – he was fifteen. A teenager.

That fact annoyed him, especially at school. People kept thinking he was lost when he walked around the senior part of the school. But there were just as many pros as cons, as his mother often put it. He could get into a lot of events for free if he acted like a young child. Which, for some reason, he seemed good at doing.

But he was proud to think that he was just as mature, well-spoken and polite as any other civilised boy his age, growing up in a well-to-do kind of family. He was close to the Fuhrer, too, although he never really understood the reason why. She visited him and his mother often, claiming that she was childhood friends with Mrs. Bradley. Although, Armstrong was considerably younger.

But Selim wasn't comfortable with the way the head of the military acted around him – or any of his mother's other friends for that matter. They always seemed tense, as if something was about to happen. Nothing ever did.

Selim was distracted from his thoughts as the milk began to bubble, meaning it was time to stop heating it. He reached for the knob to switch off the gas and turned it off. The drinks were finished not long after, when Mrs. Bradley poured the white liquid into two mugs and mixed in the powder.

Soon, the boy and his mother were curled up on the sofa together, chocolate mugs in hand, staring out of the window as the city of Central began to slowly wake up.

* * *

><p>The bell rang for first period and Selim made his way through the classroom door, positioning himself at his usual seat at the front.<p>

He sighed shakily. He had felt perfectly fine after a nice, long warm shower, but the mental trauma from the nightmare was still there inside his head. He kept subconsciously playing back the dream in his mind's eye, then scaring himself again as it got to the end and the shadows came.

"Hey Selim, you alright?"

The black-haired boy looked up to see his best friend standing over him – a Cretan boy named Nuka. His brown eyes looked worried through his sandy blonde hair.

"Yeah… fine thanks." Selim reached into his bag and pulled out the textbook he needed for that lesson.

"Nuka?"

The other boy turned to him as he sat down. "Yeah?"

"This is… historical and alchemical science, right?"

Nuka sent Selim a concerned look. He saw that his eyes were a duller shade than usual, and they seemed to have lost a bit of their spark.

"It is, yeah. We always have it first period today."

"Oh… that's good. I was worried that I packed for the wrong day." Selim opened up his pencil case and pulled out a biro, ready for class.

"Selim, are you sure you're OK?" Nuka put his hand on his friend's shoulder. As he was of average height, the Cretan boy was naturally taller, but today the black haired boy looked even smaller. "You really don't look too good."

"I'm fine, Nuka. Trust me," Selim replied stubbornly, "I just feel a tiny bit… dizzy that's all. It'll pass in a minute."

"Well, if you're sure…"

"I'm _fine_, Nuka," Selim said. His shook his head around quickly. "See? No Ill person could do that now, could they?"

Nuka frowned, but stopped trying to interfere. He trusted the shorter boy completely, but this time he couldn't help but think there was something else going on.

Before he could even think about assuring his friend even further, Selim noticed the teacher walk in. Her brown hair was fashioned in her regular multiple braids, most of which were tied back, but some were still hanging in front of her face or tucked behind her ears. Her usual white coat was tied around her waist, revealing a tight black t-shirt underneath. She wore leggings that cut off just belong her knees and a pair of sandals that had the initials 'W.C' inscribed on them.

As always, she cast a glance at Selim as she sat down at her desk, but this time her gaze lingered for longer as she noticed his irregularly pale face.

"Selim, are you feeling alright today?" she asked, forgetting about addressing the class.

"I asked him the same thing," Nuka mumbled under his breath.

"F…fine, Mrs Curtis," Selim's voice came out shakier than he wanted it to. He was convinced he felt fine – they were just dreams. So why were they causing him _this_ much trouble?

"Good," if the woman picked up on the wavering in Selim's voice, she didn't show it. Instead, she stood up again and wrote the date on the blackboard.

"Alright then, class," she declared, "turn to page twenty-one. We're going to continue to look at the alchemical style used in the war between Drachma and the North from 1850 to 1856."

There was the sound of shuffling paper behind Selim as everyone in the class turned to the right page.

"Read through the page and then in a few minutes we'll come together and I'll ask you some questions," she instructed, taking a seat behind her desk once more.

All the time Selim spent reading, he felt Mrs. Curtis' gaze on him and he found it hard to take in what he was looking at. His dizziness had thankfully disappeared completely, just like he hoped it would. But his eyes still struggled to focus on the words in front of his face and he kept having to reread sentences. It felt like his whole brain was doing somersaults and, before he knew it, he felt the beginnings of a headache.

Groaning slightly, he shut the book as his finished the page, trying hard to process everything he had just read. His head was throbbing and there were white spots in the edges of his vision that wouldn't go away no matter which direction he looked in.

Luckily, his mother had put some headache pills in his bag for him just in case, and he took one out, popping it into his mouth without a word. He groaned when nothing happened, but it wasn't like they had an immediate effect.

"Selim, what did you just put into your mouth?" Mrs. Curtis raised an eyebrow, "no gum, I hope?"

"N-no, Mrs. Curtis," Selim replied, "I have a headache. My mother packed some pills for me, and I thought it would hurt to have one without ask-"

"Well, next time Selim," she interrupted, "tell me first. I could get into trouble otherwise."

"Y-yes, Mrs. Curtis," Selim bowed his head, embarrassed. By now, he could feel everyone else behind him staring. Blushing, he mentally slapped himself. He really _was_ acting like a little child. It was just a stupid headache, for God's sake - forget about it.

"Nuka, please tell me the answer to this: what was the form of alchemy the state alchemists mostly used in the war?" the woman turned her attention to the Cretan boy next to him.

"Armament and firearm alchemy," Nuka answered after some hesitation, "they mostly made tanks and large guns."

"And where did the state alchemists do that? Were they on the front line?"

"No… they stayed back and made everything while the ordinary soldiers fought. The state alchemists first began to fight themselves during… during…"

"During…?"

"I don't know, miss."

"Selim? What about you? Do you know?"

Selim looked at his hands, trying to think through his migraine. When the answer came to him and he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse.

"I think it was Ishbal," he said to her.

"And do you know anything else about the Ishbalan rebellion?"

"Only the fact that a lot of people were killed."

Mrs. Curtis glanced around the room at the rest of her students. "What about any of you? Ever been told anything else about Ishbal?"

She was answered with thirty blank faces and a few shaking heads.

"Good, let's keep it that way, then. Now, back to the lesson."

Selim put his head down on the pillow slowly, yawning. His headache had finally faded during lunch, so that gave him one less thing to worry about.

* * *

><p>He lay there for a while, staring up at the blank white ceiling, then at the clock. It was about ten, and Selim's mother had already come up to wish him good night.<p>

What he was most afraid of, though, were the nightmares. Would he have another one tonight? Would it be the same as last time?

Eventually, he felt his eyes beginning to close, and within a few minutes, Selim Bradley had sunken into the lands of his subconscious, powerless in what his mind wanted to dream about.

…

"Your threats are useless," the woman said through the distorted darkness.

She was dead still, her eyes unblinking as a black blade cut her cheek. "After all, what would you gain by killing me now?"

Selim felt himself smile, unable to look away. His whole head was screaming at him to run, to get out of there and from the black mass of shadows that kept on encircling him and the woman, shifting back and forth slowly. They moved like snakes, and Selim could swear he heard a hiss one or two times.

But instead, he just spoke. "You're quite right. But you know what will happen if you speak of this to anyone, don't you?" Selim saw the tendrils unwind from around the woman's body as he talked, "Colonel Mustang and your other friends will not go unharmed."

He snickered again as she began to walk away, her pace steady.

"Just remember, lieutenant," he seemed to whisper as he talked, "I will always be watching you, from the shadows."

**Danny: Woah, Hayden 0_o 3000 words exactly? That the longest chapter you've ever posted.**

**Me: I KNOW. Wow, I'm so pleased with myself :3 remember to review now guys! I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Danny: See you next time!**


	3. Elysia

**Me: Chapter THREE!**

**Danny: Oh, glorious day!**

**Me: Meh, sorry for the late update guys. You know the drill – homework, job, all that. I managed to squeeze this out before tomorrow, though, when I'll be trailing halfway across the country to Birmingham MCM to meet Vic Mignogna and Aaron Dismuke. Nice of them to come to the UK :3. Then it's the Easter Holidays. Hopefully that'll leave me with a ton of writing time, so you all should be expecting a MUCH sooner update. Until then, here's 3295 words that you've probably come here just specifically to read. Oh and, a disclaimer:**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, why would I be here, writing FANFICTION? FANfiction. FAN. I am a FAN. Yes, is that clear now? All the characters belong to Hiromou Arakawa, I just thought up the plot :3**

_**A New Way to Bleed, Chapter 3**_

The blunt sound of a car horn rung through the approaching evening as Gracia Hughes switched on the engine and plugged in her seatbelt.

"Come on, Elysia, we have to go - your bag's already out here packed for you!" she called out the window to her daughter, "I need to take this dress to the cleaner's on our way too!"

"Coming, Mum!"

Elysia quickly picked out a handbag from by her bedroom door and shoved her purse into it, zipping it up after. She ran down the stairs and across the hall awkwardly, as one of her sandals still weren't done up properly. Her coat was on the floor by the front door where she had left it earlier when she had gone outside to feed her rabbit, so she grabbed it during her rush outside, locking the door behind her.

The radio was playing as the eighteen-year-old sat in the other front seat of the car, buckling herself in and putting her bag between her knees. The one she had decided on was a deep shade of crimson.

"What's with the second bag?" her mother asked her as they pulled out of the drive.

"Just wanted to look nice," Elysia replied, tying her hair up, but leaving a few pale brown strands at the front hanging down to line her heart-shaped face. "I am babysitting the _Fuhrer's son_, you know."

Elysia saw her mother smile as they drove along the street. She knew full well that Gracia was proud of her, and she liked that. Their bond was close, being the only two people in the house since the death of Maes, her father. But that was when she was only three. That meant that her memories of him were few and far between, and they were hazy ones, too.

Because she was so young at the time, she didn't really have a grasp on the idea of death. It was a term that had only once or twice been brought into her life, when Gracia had been talking on the phone to one of her friends or when Maes had come home and told his wife what he had had to deal with at work. She didn't truly understand the word until the day of her father's funeral, and even then it seemed like he was just on a long trip away. She hadn't helped the situation that day, either, saying things like 'why are they putting dirt on Daddy? He said he had work to do, and he can't do that if they cover him with dirt.'

The clearest memory of that time had been Gracia's tears.

She had cried too, of course, but only because everyone else was. Apparently, even General Mustang had cried, and everyone knew that that was something you definitely would _not_ see everyday.

The person who greeted them at the door once they arrived was the none other than the Fuhrer's husband himself, General Miles. He was dressed formally in a sleek black suit, complete with a blood-red tie that matched his eyes. His white hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and his sideburns were trimmed neatly into a pointed shape.

"Good evening," he said, a small smile appearing on his face as he recognised his visitors, "Olivier is still getting ready, come in Elysia." Miles turned to Gracia, "are you staying?"

"No, sir," the woman held up the dress she was carrying, "I have a few errands to run and the shops are closing soon."

"Very well, then," he replied as Elysia made her way through the door, "we will be back late, so I hope Elysia's told you she's been invited to stay the night? It seems like she's brought the things one would need for an overnight visit."

"Yes, she has," Gracia replied. "In fact, I packed it for her," she added, "it was a bit of a rush getting out on time today – her flute lesson over-run again."

"Well I'm sorry you were so hurried getting out here," Miles apologised, "it's not often me and Olivier will go out together, and a few visitors are still here from earlier today so we've been busy. It has, in fact, been a bit of rush for us too."

After an exchange of some goodbyes Gracia got back in her car and soon was driving out into the street, away from the Fuhrer's mansion.

The sky was almost completely dark now, most stars already beginning to appear to prepare for the coming night. The air was chilly, and although it was early spring, the previous winter had been a long one.

"Let's get inside out of this cold, then, Elysia," the girl heard to man next to her say.

She didn't really know what to make of the general. When she usually went to look after to look after the Fuhrer's son, Thomas, Olivier or a servant would be most likely to answer the door. She'd rarely actually seen the half-Ishbalan, so she had no idea what his true character was really like.

He led her down the large hall and into the first main room on the left. A young boy was sitting on the rug, sliding a toy car back and forth around his knees. He had red eyes like his father, but Thomas Armstrong had inherited both his mother's pale blonde hair and surname.

The five-year-old looked up with huge eyes as she stepped inside. "Hello, Elysia!" he jumped up, clearly glad to see her, "what are you doing here?"

"She's looking after you while your mother and I go out, Thomas," Miles went up to his son and picked him up, putting him on his shoulders.

But Elysia could still tell from the infrequent amount of times she had seen the Fuhrer's husband he cared deeply for his only child – Olivier had definitely refused to have more than one kid – and that, according to her mother who had known him for a long time, brought out the fatherly side in him.

It was unfair to think so, but Elysia generally assumed that everyone higher up in the military didn't really have that kind of affection. It seemed to her that they were all tough, hard soldiers with their hearts and souls in their jobs, prepared to die for their country if it came to that.

General Miles had proved her wrong on more than one occasion, though. Even now, he was sitting with his boy back down on the rug again, helping him build a tower out of wooden blocks.

"Come and play with us, Elysia!" Thomas looked over to the girl, who was still standing in the doorway, politely holding her bags.

Miles looked at her too and then got up hastily, adjusting his tie and clearing his throat.

"Sorry, I forgot about the bags," Miles said and called for a servant to take them, "you know kids, they want all the attention."

Elysia laughed in agreement and smiled at Thomas, who was still sitting on the floor with his cars and tower, making little sound effects to go with his game. She handed her luggage to a maid, who took her coat also and hung it up by the door.

"It's his birthday soon, too," Miles said as they walked back into the room, "next week on Friday."

"I'm gonna be six!" Thomas said happily.

After a moment she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and Elysia turned round to see Fuhrer President Olivier Mira Armstrong, clothed in a long black dress that went all the way down to the floor. It hadn't occurred to her that it was something a woman of her stature would normally wear, being so threatening. She didn't really look like the head of the country anymore – just a slim, blonde woman with her hair tied back in a long ponytail.

Behind her was another woman Elysia recognised – a kind older lady named Mrs. Bradley. She had her coat on, like she was ready to leave.

The boy beside her was very familiar, too. Selim Bradley was his name, and she had known him virtually all her life. For reasons unknown to both of them, the Fuhrer liked to see him often, and with Elysia's own mother's relationship to the military being the wife of the late Brigadier General Maes Hughes, their lives had crossed over many times. She was three years older and much taller than him, but they were great friends. She'd often seen him walking around school during lunch, but they usually hung out at the Fuhrer's house where they met most often.

But today, though, he seemed a little distracted. His purple eyes had lost their child-like shine and had heavy bags underneath. His position was more slouched, with a small frown seemed to be glued onto his face. He said nothing, and before Elysia could speak, Armstrong stepped forward to greet her.

"Thank you again for looking after Thomas, Miss Hughes," her voice sounded as commanding and imposing as ever, despite the feminine outfit.

Like always, Elysia wasn't really sure just how formally to address the older woman, so she did a hasty salute – something that seemed respectable and polite enough. "A pleasure, sir," she replied.

"Likewise," she smiled – something Elysia wasn't sure she was quite comfortable with, "it's a good thing to know I can trust someone to look after my son. Are you ready, Miles?" the Fuhrer looked up at her husband.

"Indeed," he replied, giving his son a quick goodbye hug.

"We should be leaving too, then," she heard Mrs Bradley say.

As Elysia followed them all out into the hallway, Thomas clinging onto her right hand, she kept glancing hopefully down at Selim, who was on her other side. He was soundless, refusing to look up from the floor and his feet were trailing along the ground. He was definitely ill, Elysia knew that for sure, and that worried her. But she knew that he was strong, and she trusted him to get over whatever was causing him trouble.

The maid opened the front door again to reveal the cold late evening and soon, the Fuhrer and her husband were stepping into their own car, along with Mrs Bradley and Selim, who they had offered to drop home. Elysia frowned slightly at the fact she hadn't had a chance acknowledge the younger boy, let alone ask him what was wrong.

And just as quickly she had arrived, they had left, leaving her in silence with just the maid (who she had after time come to know as Elizabeth) and the young Armstrong for company. Deciding it was the best place to go, Elysia headed back to the front room with them trailing behind her.

"What would you like to do tonight then, Thomas?" she tried to put Selim out of her mind and asked the boy her usual question.

The blonde thought for a moment, then put down his toy car on the rug and beamed. "Hide and seek!" he said happily.

Elysia frowned for a second time. Was she even allowed to let him do that? It had never been brought up before. The house was massive – it could probably hold a whole… pent-a-something of soldiers. What if Thomas fell and hurt himself? He would be so far away from her that she wouldn't know about it.

"How about I hide with him?" Elizabeth offered, obviously thinking the same as her, "I won't get in his way. It'll just be to make sure he's safe."

Thomas looked up at his babysitter hopefully, a huge winning grin on his face that people often found hard to turn down. _How could he possibly be related to the Fuhrer? _She thought, _The only thing they share is their hair colour, nothing else._

"Fine," she decided, "but be careful, OK?"

Thomas' smile grew even wider as she answered, "but don't hide too far away. Dinner should be in about… Elizabeth?"

"It's in half an hour," the maid answered.

"Exactly – not long, so-" Elysia began, but Thomas had already left the room, shouting "count to one hundred, Elysia!" Elizabeth breathlessly trailed behind, calling for him to slow down.

_He's such a handful_, she sighed, _but it's really hard not to love him_. Even though she was eighteen – technically an adult, she would definitely not be having children for a _long_ time.

Exhaling heavily, she sat down on one of the nearby sofas and counted in her head to one hundred. It didn't take her long, but the time she had finished their footsteps had faded and the house was quiet once again.

Yawning (it had been a long day), Elysia stood up and walked out into the hall again. She had seen Thomas turn left, which was only logical, as the entrance to the mansion was the only thing on the right.

The passage seemed to go on forever. There were paintings hung on the walls, which all featured past heads of the Armstrong family, dating back to as much as a few hundred years. As she walked along, Elysia noticed that every single one shared the distinct pale blonde hair and piercing blue eyes traditional to the line for generations. And just like Olivier, they all had a commanding and imposing air to them.

At the end of the hall was a painting of the Fuhrer herself – the first head of the Armstrong family and Fuhrer to be female. After reading the date engraved in a gold plate, Elysia worked out that it was painted about seven years ago, just after she had become Fuhrer. That was shortly following Grumman's assassination. General Mustang was too busy with the Ishbalan Recovery Development to take the old man's place, so she had stepped up the take the important role as head of Amestris and the state military.

A new type of government had also been formed along with her succession, with a democracy merged into the higher up of the military, allowing public vote for a lot of significant decisions. Elysia had no idea why it wasn't just like that before in the first place, but she was glad it was that way now.

The only Armstrong besides Oliver and her son who actually lived in Amestris was Alex, a lieutenant general in second command up in the north, with Miles as the head. Olivier was in charge of Briggs beforehand, but after her promotion she had reluctantly agreed to let her younger brother take her place.

The rest of the family had taken up residence in the country of Xing that was just beyond the east desert, after being sent there thirteen years ago by Olivier for a break. They enjoyed the culture out there so much that they decided to simply not return.

Because of Olivier's status in Amestris, the family members in Xing had close connections with the emperor, Ling Yao. He was rather young to be ruling such a large, rich and powerful country – the second biggest behind Drachma – in Elysia's opinion. He was only twenty-eight. But he had apparently given something to his late father, the previous emperor, which had confirmed his place as leader. It must have been of extreme value, as Ling was only the twelfth son, meaning what it was needed to be of enough worth to bypass eleven other perfectly capable princes and princesses.

Elysia was left with the decision of either going left or right again, so she just randomly chose right, heading towards the east wing of the house. This one was where the bedrooms were, although she didn't know whose was whose. Her knowledge of this house was very small, with her only ever being in Thomas's room, one of the seven bathrooms, the kitchen and the front room. She had barely even brushed what things were inside the house. Apparently, there was a whole library about the size of the one in the heart of Central that only State Alchemists could go into.

The main kitchen was situated in the west wing, so it was still silent. Elysia groaned inwardly when she suddenly realised just how much searching she actually had to do before she found Thomas, or at least until dinner anyway. She enjoyed babysitting the boy, but a game like this was just too tiring for her. With exams at school, her final flute assessment revision and a part-time job taking up most of her free time, playing hide-and-seek with a five year old at seven o'clock in the evening and currently no dinner was something she really didn't want to do.

Now she'd cut down the amount of rooms to search to half of the house, looking for Thomas would _hopefully_ be slightly easier. But still there were probably fifty or more that needed to be checked. She quickly remembered the way to Thomas' room and headed down the hall, still surrounded by family paintings.

Elysia had been inside numerous times, so she had a good idea of where the hiding spots were. The room was painted white, with two walls covered in pale blue wallpaper. Toys were scattered around the floor – the maids would most likely clear them up during dinner.

She looked around the room. From first glance, it seemed like no one was in there. And after some searching in the wardrobe, under the bed, in the toy chest and everywhere else she could possibly think of, that was confirmed. Thomas and Elizabeth were hiding somewhere else.

Elysia groaned again. What now? She'd really hoped that they'd be in here.

Making sure she shut the door behind her, the brown-haired girl walked back out into the hall and took the next door along._ If I'm going to check all the rooms_, she thought to herself, _I'd better do it in some kind of order_.

This next room was much, much neater than Thomas', with everything in its right place. The floor was spotless, no sharp objects to be accidently trodden on. A double four-poster bed lay in the centre against the wall, and the curtains were drawn. There were photos hung up all around the wall – not paintings this time. Snapshots of Olivier, Thomas and Miles were the most common, but a lot of them seemed to be taken up North in Fort Briggs.

With a jolt Elysia realised that this was the Fuhrer's room, and she almost turned round and headed to the door. But she noticed some lines that seemed to be scratched into the wallpaper, with some hinges barely visible on one side.

_It's one of those secret doors! Thomas _has _to be hiding in there_.

Tip-toeing towards the newly-discovered door as not to alert the boy and his maid to her presence, she put her hands on it and gave it a shove. It opened silently on well-oiled hinges to reveal a dark room, in which Elysia quickly found the light switch.

The bulb flickered on, revealing the room's contents. A bathroom.

_What's the point of hiding a bathroom like that_? Elysia frowned. That was pointless. It looked regularly used, too. The shower curtains were pulled back, revealing what was the only sensible place to hide. Unsurprisingly, no one was there.

She left the room and then the Fuhrer's room still left with the task of finding Thomas. Her watch told her that she still had twenty minutes, which was twenty more than she wanted, to be honest. She would much rather watch a movie with the young Armstrong, or help him build a tower out of bricks again.

Glowering, she exhaled heavily and walked down the hall for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening, to continue her search for the Fuhrer's son.

**Danny: And that's that!**

**Me: Hope you enjoyed this one, guys! This time, I'll leave you all with a trivia question which'll hopefully keep your FMA-obsessed brains ticking:**

**In what order did the homunculi die? Starting from first, to last.**

**Danny: Good luck with that one, it's a hard question to cheat on.**

**Me: Leave your answer in a review! And no copying others! Bye guys, and thanks so much for reading and reviewing, it means a LOT to me :3**


	4. His Home in Resembool

**Me: Phew, finally got one up!**

**Danny: So this chapter is where the story really takes off. Well, this is kind of a filler, but, still. No more prologues XD**

**Me: Have fun reading!**

_**A New Way to Bleed Chapter 4: His Home in Resembool**_

Maes' hometown of Resembool actually barely resembled a town at all. Houses were few and far between and most of the land was used for farming.

It was, without a doubt, a beautiful place – undisturbed, tranquil countryside for miles. The weather was almost always perfect, but when it rained, it _really _rained.

In fact, it was one of those times now, and all he could hear was the sound of the downpour and his father's constant moaning. Inside Ed's automail port was a huge open wound, so that the nerves in his leg could connect to the metal and he could move it. It never caused him any trouble (the metal that encased it was really like his skin anyway) but the humidity and dampness that came with the terrible weather always made his stump ache. It was the same for all of his mother's other patients, too.

The boy's thirteenth birthday had come and gone and a week had passed now. He'd also had that amount of time to try and catch up with Edward, but he'd start talking and then it would either get awkward and they'd stop, or Maes would get mad and end up storming out of the room.

Now though, he was being forced to help Nina serve him tea as Ed lay sprawled out on the sofa with a thick blanket over him. His face was pale with the fever that had set in earlier in the week – it had been raining ever since he arrived home.

"Surely this happens all the time when it rains?" Maes set the tray down on his father's lap and sat on the other end of the couch, one hand pressed boringly against his chin.

"It has," Ed replied, his voice a hoarse whisper, "sometimes I'd had to stay in my hotel room for days."

A look of sympathy managed to flash its way through Maes' blank expression. The pain must be close to unbearable and the boy winced just at the thought of what it could be like.

Maes turned his attention to the fireplace to stop himself adding a sarcastic remark and stared at the flames until his eyes began to sting. He had nothing better to do; he had finished the little amount of the books in the house that counted as fictional reading material, including his birthday presents. And he couldn't even _begin_ to think about going outside to play in this weather.

"How's Jacob?" Ed looked up at his wife, who was sitting up straight beside him, with what appeared to be an automail foot in her hand. She had blatantly refused to leave him and instead brought her work up into the family room so she could work at the same time.

"He's doing fine," Winry replied, "the nerve attachment should have been done by this evening, but I want to give him a break, the rain's done a number on him, just like you, but worse. You know, because the port isn't sealed yet." Jacob was the current automail patient staying with the Elrics down in the basement in the surgery room. Maes had spoken him quite a lot during his stay, and had learned about an interesting way to lose a leg. He wondered if it was the same for his father, but he didn't think of Edward as one to be fighting any animals. Or fighting at all, for that matter.

"Oh, and Nina, sweetie," Winry looked over at her daughter.

"Yes, Mum?"

"The Sheep Festival's been cancelled this week because of all the rain."

"But I just finished making Bette look all pretty!" Nina whined.

As well as the automail shop, the Elric family also owned a small farm. It was mostly crops, but there were a few chickens and sheep too, plus a cow (which Ed _absolutely_ refused to have anything to do with). Bette was Nina's favourite sheep, the ewe that the young girl had entered into the sheep shows that came to Resembool since she was a lamb (with the help of Maes and her mother, of course). Resembool's annual Sheep Festival was a big occasion, with travellers coming from far and wide to see the event.

"Don't worry about it," Winry gave her a little hug, "they'll re-schedule it, I promise."

Nina seemed a bit more enthusiastic now, and she smiled again and left the room, saying something about playing with her dolls.

"She's quite mature from her age, isn't she?" Maes heard Ed say.

Winry put the metal foot down next to her and picked up a different sized wrench, folding Ed's blanket away from her slightly to reveal the automail port on his leg.

"There's a small hole between the edge of the metal and the skin, which is probably why you're feeling worse than yesterday. The metal's contracted from where it's been so cold this winter, and the late spring hasn't helped. Let me get the rest of my tool kit – I'll be back in a second, OK?"

Winry had put a lot of thought into her line of work, and Maes liked that a lot about his mother. She was the most kind and caring woman he had ever known, always gentle when performing the operations. People weren't allowed to be sedated for any of it, or the nerve attachments wouldn't work. Maes always shuddered slightly when he thought of that. The pain must be excruciating. Sometimes, people even _died_. But not his mother's patients. She took every precautionary step to make sure they stayed alive.

He hoped he would never have to go through with an operation like that.

"Yeah OK, Winry," Ed didn't really seem in the mood for talking. His face had gone bright red and dripping with sweat.

"Can I… get you anything?" the boy asked his father just to block out the annoying sound of the rain, frowning slightly. Why was it so awkward talking to him? He found it easier to speak to Jacob, and he had known the man for less than a week!

"No, thanks," he answered, smiling weakly.

And that was yet _another_ thing that intrigued Maes. His father seemed to completely ignore the fact that he'd constantly been away from his son for all of his life. He was treating the boy like he had been there every day, and Maes thought that that just simply wasn't fair. How could one be a father to someone when they weren't there doing their job as one? In fact, he had no idea what Edward did on his travels. He never bothered to bring back any souvenirs, so usually Maes had no idea where his father had been unless he told him, which was rare.

Maes shrugged and sat down on the sofa. What was he supposed to do now? It wasn't like the rain had suddenly disappeared. The signal on the radio had stopped because of the weather, too.

"Hey," he heard Ed say.

"What?"

"Go and fetch my suitcase and bring it here, will you?"

"Why?" Maes asked, "and you still haven't unpacked it yet?"

"I haven't exactly had the chance, you know. And I'm not in the mood or condition for a fight right now. Just get it already."

Grumbling, the blonde boy stood up and went out into the hall. The old brown case was in exactly the same position as it when Ed had returned last week. Just by looking at it, you could tell what it had been through. One of the handles was almost broken, the stitches that bound the leather together were thinning and fraying and one of the two locks on the top had been snapped.

Suddenly Maes heard a knock, barely audible above the sound of the downpour. He looked up, putting the suitcase back down.

Getting ready for the rain to come into the house, he kicked the shoes out of the way of the door further down the hall to avoid them getting wet.

Bracing himself, he closed his eyes and grabbed the handle. It was freezing and he almost pulled away.

He opened the door as quick as he could. "Get inside!" he shouted, not even bothering to see who it was.

Two figures hurried in, soaking wet and icy cold. Shivering himself, Maes closed the door and the sound of the storm became muffled again, but still just as loud.

"Now then," he gasped, catching his breath from the sudden rush, "who are you two and why did you come all the way our here to our house? You don't need automail, do you? I can see that you've got all your arms and legs."

The first person – a man in his late twenties – eyed Maes curiously. A young Xingese woman stood behind him, shaking from the cold. Her long black hair was plastered to her pale face and dripping wet.

"My name is Alphonse Elric," the man said, "and you must be Maes, right?"

Maes' eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back. This guy was his uncle? He looked up in disbelief. He'd imagined him kind of like this – with short, neatly cropped dark blonde hair and brown eyes, but to actually meet him was something he was never really prepared for. He knew that Alphonse was supposed to be visiting, but it still seemed a little strange.

"Uh, yeah, that's me," he smiled weakly, unsure what to say.

"So this is your nephew you were telling me all about!" the Xingese lady said, smiling, "I'm May Chang," she said to Maes, putting her hands together and giving a short bow, "Alphonse's fiancée."

Before the boy could reply, he heard a startled noise come from the other end of the hall.

"Al! May!" his mother dropped her tool box and ran up to them, but hesitated to give them a hug. As happy as she was to see them, she didn't really like getting wet when there was no need.

"Hey, Winry," Al laughed, "it's great to see you again! Sorry we're so wet. We weren't prepared for all this rain. There's barely any in Xing and I'm kind of used to the weather over there now."

"I'll get some towels for you both so that you can dry off," Winry replied quickly and turned round, jogging down the hall and upstairs to the bathroom.

"Thank you!" May called out behind her.

"You look very different from this photograph I have of you," Alphonse suddenly turned to his nephew and pulled a slip of paper out of his inside coat pocket.

"Well, that's probably because I was five when that was taken," Maes pointed.

"No, really," his uncle said as he turned it round, "your hair is different."

Maes looked at the picture in the surprise. "You're right," he observed. His hair was a much darker gold in the picture – almost brown, in fact. And he had bangs hanging down the side of his face in it. Now, there were just a few loose strands of hair that refused to stay tied up.

"You look a lot like your grandfather when he was young," Al smiled.

"Seriously? That's… cool."

Maes had a feeling that his new-found uncle would be willing to tell him lots of information on the man he was being compared to and a bit more. Right now though, he wanted to find out a little more about where his father had been – something that would most likely be brought up in the adults' conversation. But would they talk about it if he was in the room?

Even though Alphonse hadn't been to the Elric household in eight years, he still knew the place inside out. Clutching May's dripping hand with his own, he led her down the hall and into the living room.

"Brother!" Maes heard him exclaim before he caught up, remembering to grab the suitcase, "what happened? Are you OK?"

"Don't worry, Al. It's just the rain," Ed replied as his son set down the case beside him.

At this point Winry had returned with some blue towels and May was already wrapping one around her shoulders, beginning to shake a bit less.

Alphonse sighed happily, a warm smile spreading across his face at no one in particular.

He was home.

* * *

><p>Selim screamed at the top of his lungs, clutching his head with his hands. His nails dug into his skin and he swore that he felt something slide down the side of his face, but it was too dark to see and he couldn't find the will to care anyway. There was too much pain.<p>

"Make it stop!" He shouted at no one, "Stop it!"

His mother could do nothing but hold him as tight as he was able to take, and softly wipe his face of any gore.

"Please!" He cried desperately, voice cracking in agony, "Go away!"

It seemed like his nightmares had managed to push their way into his waking hours, causing him physical pain instead of mental. They hadn't disappeared from his sleep, either, so he had woken up without a break to the extreme torture.

"Please!" he let out another shrill wail of anguish and tears rolled down his face with the rest of the gore and stained his shirt as well as his mother's.

"**Stop it! I said **_**stop**_**!**"

Suddenly the waves of pain seemed to retreat back into his head and the agony died down a bit. The tiny fifteen-year-old managed to open his eyes to thin purple slits. Mrs Bradley's own eyes were full of worry, but comforting at the same time. Yes, she was still there, holding him, even if there was nothing she could do to help.

"Are you OK now?" she loosened her grip on her only child slightly and lifted his chin up, causing him to look directly at her. His eyes were bloodshot and dark liquid was pouring out of his nose, so she took another tissue and gently dabbed it away, then left some more in place as an attempt to stop the flow.

"N…no. Yes. Maybe. I don't…" Selim's speech was short and sharp, and after each one he took a gasp for breath. His head still throbbed, and his heart rate was up. He was shivering again, too, even with the pyjamas, blanket, jumper and jacket that had now been put around him in an effort to keep the boy warm.

Mrs Bradley put one of her index fingers on his lip to keep him quiet. It was too disorientating for him to form intelligent sentences, and he should not be pushed at a time like this. He didn't need to be in more pain than he already was.

"Stay right here, sweetie," she put on the most calm and soothing voice she could, "I'm just going to fetch you some nice cold water. I'll be back before you know it."

Gently, she pushed her sniffling child away and laid him back down on his soft bed, then stood up and went straight to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>"So Auntie Pinako is dead," Alphonse frowned, "I was wondering why you were doing the cooking with Maes, Winry."<p>

The blonde woman nodded sadly, "seven years ago today, actually. We don't even know what happened. I came home from doing the shopping and just… found her body in here by the stove. There wasn't any evidence, but I knew that she'd been murdered."

"So a bit like Hughes, then?" Al offered, "you know, no leads…"

Maes from chopping the carrots, "who's Hughes?"

"He was a friend of ours," Winry explained after a moment, "back when we were kids."

"I still think about all the things he did for us," Alphonse put on a cooking apron, deciding to help, "and that reminds me, Winry. How are Gracia and Elysia?"

"Ed went to Central a while ago," Winry replied, "they're fine. Actually, he's going back up there soon, to visit the Bradley family. Poor Selim's been having a few nightmares recently."

"I'm going too," Maes added afterwards, sliding the freshly-sliced vegetables into some boiling water.

"Is that so?" Al laughed slightly.

Maes had decided quickly in the past few days of his stay that Alphonse seemed like a nice man to have for an uncle. He looked young for his age and acted like it, too. May was a pleasant woman as well, always polite when asking for or receiving things. And she still kept all her personal Xingese traditions despite having an Amestrian fiancé. In fact, it seemed like some of them had rubbed off on Al.

Al stopped suddenly, and a thought seemed to appear in his head. "Do you think it would be OK if I go to Central with Ed too? There's actually some people I want to see."

"I'm sure it would be fine," Winry shrugged, "I don't see why Ed wouldn't take you."

Maes stared out of the window at the rain. If he squinted hard enough, he could just make out Resembool station in the distance at the bottom of the hill.

Providing Ed recovered from his fever, he would be catching a train from there in a few days' time. Then, finally for the first time in his life, he would leave his hometown and get to see something instead of miles and miles of grass.

Now he just had to wait.

**Me: filler chapter is fail**

**Danny: The next chappie will be Maes actually going there, and if I get enough reviews, something surprising might happen. I won't say what, you'd just have to review and find out. (If there are only a few like last time, that surprise won't happen, so remember!)**

**Me: Until next time!**

**Danny: Bye!**


	5. We Start From Here

**Danny: And we're back for chapter 5!**

**Me: And I bet it was sooner than you thought! Well, maybe not…**

**Danny: So, anyway, I think eight reviews counts as a worthy number of the special surprise.**

**Me: And that surprise is – a competition!  
>Danny: YAY! I sound so cheesy!<strong>

**Me: It's only open to people who have reviewed, faved or alerted so far, before the date this was updated. Get why I wanted you to review now?**

**Danny: All you have to do is send Hayden a PM about your favourite homunculus and why you like them so much. And, yes, Greed can be counted as two different people for this one. (Original and Greed!Ling) The prize is a 3000+ word oneshot of your choice. We'll choose the winner both through a random generator and who gives the best explaination. Go on, convince Hayden that her favourite shouldn't be Pride! I dare you! **

**Me: Enjoy the fic guys!**

_**A New Way to Bleed Chapter 5: We Start From Here**_

"Does it hurt a lot?" Jacob asked Edward worriedly as they were waiting for Winry to finish sterilizing the tools.

Ed sucked in a breath and looked down at him. "Yeah, it does," he answered honestly, "sorry."

Maes frowned. His father didn't really make the situation better, so he added a quick, "it's my mum who's giving you the operation. She's the best automail mechanic in the whole of Amestris!" He grinned to lighten the mood further.

Jacob's shoulders seemed to un-tense at that, but he was still breathing heavily.

Ed had decided to accompany his son and his wife during Jacob's nerve attachment, with Alphonse and May upstairs with Nina. Soon, he, his brother and his son would be leaving for Central. He had made the decision for them to travel by taking the night train so that Maes could partly sleep off the boredom of a twenty-seven hour journey to the capital city. Plus, he and Al could catch up after a few years of not seeing each other. Obviously, he had had some time with him in Xing a few weeks ago, but that was only for a short while and he had his brother's new bodyguards to contend with. He was technically almost a prince of Xing now, but only _in_ Xing. Outside of the country he was just regular Alphonse Elric. An extremely long journey with nothing to do but stare out the window was the perfect chance to chat.

"Ready, Jakey?" Winry smiled warmly at her patient. She, like all the others, was trying her very best to make the man feel comfortable.

"Yeah, I suppose," he replied shakily.

"Well just think of this," Maes said, "after the operation, you'll have a leg that _can't_ be bitten off by rabid animals."

The man laughed slightly at that, but not much.

Ed put some latex gloves on his hands as well as the rest of the Elric family that was present. As he began to pass Winry some tools, Maes walked up to where Jacob's head was. The poor man was still trembling, so he patted him on the shoulder lightly and said, "don't worry, Jakey, it won't last very long."

In fact, deep down, Maes knew that the operation nerve attachment would have six hours at the very least. It was always the longest for the legs, as they had to get the balancing right; Winry had told him that Ed's operation had lasted almost eight and a half hours.

"Ok, I'm about to start with the first nerve, Jacob. Be ready," Winry said.

For a moment there was a tense silence and Maes wasn't sure why nothing was happening, then Jacob suddenly jolted backwards into the head of the bed (thankfully cushioned by a few pillows) and a whimper of pain escaped his mouth.

Maes frowned. Squeaky sounds like that wasn't something a grown man should make. But that was what an automail operation did to people. He had seen it more times than a thirteen-year-old boy should.

The cries went on until about one o'clock, when May had offered them all a break by cooking then an early traditional Xingese dinner. They were almost two thirds of the way through at this point. As he ate, Maes didn't have much of an idea what the meat was, but Alphonse seemed to both recognise and enjoy it, so the boy decided that if it was good enough for a prince, it was good enough for him. It was delicious – a stuffed bird of some sort, slow-roasted in rich oils – although the more time he spent eating, the more he became anxious about his fast-approaching trip to Central. Maes had packed his own things the night before, so he had nothing left to sort out. And Ed, finally free from his fever, was raring to go also, complete with a repaired suitcase. May had made the decision to stay at home and help Winry on the farm, along with Nina whom the Elrics had decided was too young to go.

Every time Maes thought about it, more and more questions appeared in his mind. What was life outside of Resembool like? Were cities really as big as he had heard? How many cars would he see? Would he meet General Mustang and, maybe, even the shemale Fuhrer? It was almost too much for him.

He was also very curious about Selim Bradley. The boy was fifteen – only a few years older than him. Would Maes like him? Or were people different in Central, with a different accent or culture? There was so much he didn't know. The boy's nightmares didn't sound very nice, so he could be really moody from all of the stress.

_All these questions_, Maes thought, _but never any answers_.

Well, at least, not yet.

Jacob's nerve attachment seemed to go quicker after dinner and before they knew it, it was over. Winry wiped her hand along her forehead and it came back covered in sweat.

"All done, Jakey," she said, her face bright red from all the hard work.

The patient closed his eyes and sank his head back into the pillow, sighing with relief. "Thank God for that," he muttered breathlessly, "I thought it would never end."

"Don't try to move it until I say, though," she instructed, dropping the last of her tools into a container of water. The clear liquid instantly turned a diluted red, washing the blood off of the blades and screws. Maes grabbed a cloth to help and began wiping the gore off of Jacob's new leg.

"I don't think I would want to make the effort even I was allowed," he confessed, "I'm so tired. All I want to do is sleep."

Winry laughed, "I'll agree with you on that one."

"I guess we'll leave you to it, then," Ed said, "I have to go and finish packing." He turned to his son, "Maes, we're leaving in an hour. Be ready."

"Yeah, alright," Maes replied, handing Jacob a glass of water. He paused when he saw that the man's eyes were closed, exhaustion clear on his face.

"Leave him to rest," Winry put her hands on his shoulders, "he'll be better soon."

Maes looked up at her, "will he still be here when I get back?" Jacob wasn't going to wake up before he left, and he at least wanted to say goodbye to the man.

"Maybe. Go and grab a snack," she suggested, "you'll probably be hungry on the way, so it's best if you eat now."

"Yeah, OK, Mum," he yawned as he left the room, taking one last look at Jacob. It had been a big day for him, and it still wasn't over yet.

* * *

><p>The butler knocked on the door, "your excellency, may I come in?"<p>

"Just a second, please." Olivier dismissed the maid who had just finished securing her dress.

She sighed. This really wasn't something she should be wearing, but it was necessary for the occasion. Thankfully, she had people working for her that knew one or two things about wedding anniversaries.

"What is it, Belvadier?"

He gave a quick salute as he entered the room, "Fuhrer Olivier, there's a Mrs. Bradley here to see you. She's with her son, and she claims it's urgent."

Olivier paused, unsure what to think, but then continued to walk out of the room and down the stairs, following her butler to the front door of the mansion. The woman, whose first name she still didn't know was standing in the doorway, clutching the tiny hand of her fifteen-year-old son.

Fifteen. The Fuhrer just couldn't get over that. He was just so small and frail.

The sides of his face were covered in bandages and he was as pale as a sheet, shaking all over. He looked completely vulnerable.

"Selim?" was the first thing she said as she walked up to them, "are you OK?"

The boy just stared at the floor without a response.

Mrs. Bradley spoke up," Sir? Is it OK if Selim and I have a meeting with you?"

The Fuhrer frowned. Out of all the people in Amestris, or maybe in the entire _world_, Mrs Bradley was the woman she'd hoped she would never have 'a meeting' with. It meant something was up. And she didn't like that.

She cleared her throat, trying not to show any worry, "of course. We shall discuss this in private. Belvadier?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Please fetch the keys to the fifth conference room. Mrs. Bradley, Selim and I have things to discuss there."

A look of surprise mixed with curiosity flashed across the butler's face, but he quickly composed himself. "Right away, your excellency." The man quickly went down the hall and disappeared out of sight.

"Come with me," Olivier gestured to her guests as she starting walking, "it will be unlocked by the time we get there."

Mrs. Bradley kept pace with her as she walked, but Selim seemed to have to be almost dragged along the floor.

The boy glanced up at the walls. He been to Olivier's mansion plenty of times before, but everything seemed taller and more threatening now. His day had so far been a series of fits, finally dying down just after lunchtime. That had given him a chance to chance to eat, although he hadn't managed to hold anything down for too long. Selim was hungry, tired and his head felt like it was about to burst, but he was too afraid of going to sleep again. Would he wake up in the same way? Clawing at his face to try and distract himself from the pain again? He didn't want another day like this, never, _ever _again.

His mother had also insisted that he came with her to see Olivier. He wasn't sure what to make of that, but he was too out of it to care.

"We're here," the Fuhrer announced suddenly, stopping by the wall. Selim, through his slightly blurred vision, could just make out a faint line in the wallpaper.

Olivier pushed on it and a door seemed to appear out of nowhere, swinging inwards into a dark room. It was almost like she was performing alchemy, but the previous etches into the wall told him that this was not the case. The Fuhrer flicked a switch and the room was bathed in a soft orange light.

Selim let go of his mother's hand and stepped into the semi-darkness. Something clicked inside his mind, and suddenly it felt like a weight was lifted off of his back that he didn't know he was carrying. His breathing felt easier, and, as he peeled the bandages off his face, he felt that the wounds were gone.

"What… what is this place?" he looked around in awe. The room was like any other meeting room – a large round table with a hole in the middle surrounded by chairs, plain wallpaper and a map of the country almost completely covering one wall. But he could see that it was completely free of dust, although there was a certain smell in the air that seemed to tell him that no one had been inside recently.

"This is Conference Room Five," the Fuhrer stated simply, closing the door behind her as she and his mother walked in, "it is only used for highly classified meetings, usually only between me and a few of the generals. Miles included. And," she eyed him sternly, "what is said in this room, stays in this room. Got it?"

"Uh… yes, Sir," Selim replied, "but… why so secretive? I've just had a few panic attacks, that's not really a problem for y-"

"It's a problem for _you_, Selim," Mrs. Bradley interrupted her son, "and we've brought you in here to try and resolve it."

"Why?" he asked as they all sat down. He appeared to have got a lot of life back into him, but his voice was still slightly raspy, "is it an illness or something? Can you cure it?" He was smiling now; hope beginning to light up in his eyes. To not go through that pain again… he would give up almost anything.

But much to his dismay, she sighed and shook her head, "I'm afraid the only person who knows really what it is is your father."

"Then can't you find him?" Selim had now turned to the Fuhrer, his fists clenching, "you have thousands of men and women in your military! You can use some of them to track him down!" the boy was shaking now desperately. He was leaning forward on his chair and his tiny hands were locked onto the Fuhrer's arm, a complete informality towards her but he didn't care in the slightest.

"It's not that easy, Selim. I can't just-"

"Why not? If he can make me better then why not find him?" the short appearance of his smile had ended and now tears were trickling down his face. He let go of her and stood up, but then suddenly decided his legs decided that they couldn't support him. He was hysterical.

"Calm down darling, please, this is nothing to shout about." Mrs. Bradley reached out to grab her son, but he pulled away.

"Calm down? Why would I calm down when there's a way to fix this? You expect me to be all relaxed when there's _**a way to stop this happening**_**!"**

A huge crack appeared down the centre of the table, and all three of them were thrown backwards into the wall. Selim's head felt like it would explode, and all the emotions –desperation, anger, fear – seemed to consume him from the inside until he couldn't see anything. His world was starting to spin again, the room becoming so distorted he couldn't tell which way was up or down.

Things were flying around in front of him, and two larger shadowy figures were standing over him, trying to reach him. But something made them stop and pull back. Then the pain returned.

Now all he could hear was the sound of his own screaming and agony gripped his body, so hard and so fast he somehow managed to cry even louder. He felt himself clawing at the sides of his face again, but no blood came no matter how deep he dug his nails into his skin. He needed that blood, _needed_ it, to pull him back to reality. It was the only thing that reminded him that he was real – that he existed outside of this world of torture. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, managed to suppress a scream as well as continue his search. If he didn't find any, he could be trapped in this hurt forever, and he just couldn't cope with that. Still no rush of warm liquid came, and he felt like he was reaching his limit, as if he wasn't already.

"**STOP!"**

"Selim!"

* * *

><p>Maes fidgeted around impatiently, uncomfortable on the wooden bench. His suitcase sat beside his feet on the platform floor.<p>

"When's the train gonna be here?" he half-asked, half-moaned to Alphonse.

His uncle checked his watch. "It's five-fifty," he replied, "so it should be here in about ten minutes. Although I wouldn't complain if I was you," he added, "you're lucky your dad's even letting you come. Central's a dangerous place – isn't that right, Brother?"

Ed grunted in agreement. He had become more and more moody over the course of the hour.

Maes folded his arms childishly and looked away from his father, grumbling.

"Don't make the effort," Alphonse advised his nephew, "he's only grumpy because he's nervous. Selim kind of does that to people who know him properly. Brother's known him since the day he was born."

"Really?" suddenly the boy was a bit anxious, "what's he like, then?"

Al shrugged, "I've only seen him once, back when he was little. He was about three or so, so it's unfair to judge."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a while, waiting, with nothing else to really speak about. The time carried on ticking by.

Eventually the stone floor began to rumble and Maes could see the smoke from the train's funnel drawing closer and closer, so he grabbed his luggage and stood up, walking to the edge of the platform. Al and Ed followed closely behind. It seemed like they were just as eager to get on board as he was.

Maes had obviously never been on a train before, as he had never left town. Of course, he had seen them as they passed through Resembool, but he had never caught a glimpse of what it was like on the inside.

This train, as it went directly to Central, was fairly long, providing for all kinds of classes. Ed had bought them second-class tickets, which gave them their own compartment, but with nothing too fancy. That was perfectly fine for Maes, of course. He didn't care at all – he was on a _train_. It was for the first time in his life, and that was enough for him.

He'd never travelled on anything so fast before. Barely anyone in Resembool actually owned a car, after all. The trees and fields rushed past him so fast they blurred and sometimes made him dizzy.

"Are you OK over there, Maes?" Al called from the other side of their compartment.

He yelled back, his voice being lost over the noise of the open window. The exhilarated smile was clear on his face, though, so his uncle could easily tell his answer.

Maes couldn't believe that he was finally, _finally_, leaving Resembool.

**Danny: Thank you, thank you all for riding Selim's emotional rollercoaster! Please remember to take a look at your photo on the way out! Framed pictures are £7.99! Magnets and key rings are £4.99! Buy one get one 10% off!**

**Me: That's terrible pricing Danny.**

**Danny: Theme park merchandise is a rip off these days, you know.**

**Me: *facepalm***

**Danny: Anyway… **

**Me: As for the prize in the competition, NO YAOI. OR LEMONS. NO. MAYBE NOT EVEN LIMES. In fact, it's best if, if you win, you suggest something that's not pairing related. We have too much of that on ff already. And don't make me write your OC in an adorable adventure with her boyfriend Ed and his cat where they hunt for the rainbow stone in Mary-Sue land. Also, thank you to my wonderful friend Bethany for thinking up the name 'Belvadier' during maths last week XD**

**Danny: And Chloe, who seems to enjoy reading this even though she has no idea what's going on!**

**Me: I'll be doing more contests based like this in the future, so keep a look out!  
>Danny: And remember to press that review button!<strong>

**Me: Bye!**


	6. The Experiment

**Me: Hi everyone! I'm back after all this time! You like the new story cover?**

**Danny: And not forgetting me :3 Do you realise how much effort it took me to get Hayden to post this chapter? Ugh, I never want to do that again…**

**Me: Well, I've been held down with end-of-year exams and a long trip to an almost wifi-less hotel in the middle of the German countryside.**

**Danny: … fair enough.**

**Me: And now I've decided to do review replies for you all from now on :3**

**Violetlight**: Maes had known about Selim's nightmares since chapter 1 :3 And, no, Mrs. Bradley told Winry everything on the phone to tell Edward. 'Nightmares' was just a kind of code word for Ed that Maes took literally.

**Hanashi o suru**: Well, he will now! Enjoy the chapter!

**Harryswoman**: This isn't soon enough, is it? And if you don't mind me asking, who is this 'Harry' is your username? XD

**Anne Camp aka Obi-quiet**: OH GOD NO IF THIS WAS TWILIGHT I WOULD DIE. Jacob was the name of my little brother's friend who was round here while I was writing. I couldn't think of anything else, so I just used his name.

**DoctorWhotaliaandtheOlympians**: Glad you enjoyed it! (Yay! Free money!)

**FezBerry**: There is more confusion to come, I promise you!

**Adjacent to Addiction**: Here it is! And I'm looking forward to reading your fic!

_**A New Way to Bleed Chapter 6 – The Experiment**_

"_Selim?"_

The boy stirred.

"_What is that?"_

He opened his eyes. Everything was fuzzy.

Why couldn't he move?

"_Can you get these things out of the way? I can't get to him like this."_

"_How do I do that?"_

"_You're the one who's done this before, you should know!"_

"_Right."_

Before he could even begin to make sense of what was going on around him, Selim had to tightly close his eyes again when a bright light filled the room. Everything felt pressured and tense for a moment, almost causing him to go into panic mode again, but then it seemed to ease away.

Selim looked up.

Two men were standing over him, dressed identically in white lab coats. The each held a clipboard in their hands and both appeared to be writing things down.

Eventually one of them stopped and looked down at the boy.

"Selim Bradley?" he held out his hand for him to stand up. Selim was surprised that he could.

"Uh… yeah. That's right," and his voice appeared to be working, too.

"You had quite a fall back there," the man laughed.

The boy nodded, dazed, as he looked around the room.

The first thing that struck him was the table. Didn't it have a huge crack running through the middle? He focused more, confusion setting further into his face. Not even a scratch. Stepping closer, he brushed his hand over the mahogany. There was no sign at all this table had been split in half.

"What are you so interested in the table for?" one of the men asked.

Selim didn't reply. Instead, he carried on observing the room, and everything – or every_one_ – in it.

There were at least twenty people in here with him, all dressed in white lab coats. Some were picking things out of the floor with scalpels; others were writing things on clipboards - just like the two men that had woken him up.

And there were also some people who were supposed to be here who weren't.

"Where's my mum? And Fuhrer Olivier?"

"They're outside. They regained consciousness before you."

"Talking of them…" the other man said, nodding towards the door.

"Darling!" Mrs. Bradley was standing at the entrance. Her face was puffed up and red from where she had been crying and within seconds she had her frail arms around her son, holding him so tight he could barely move.

"Selim, thank goodness you're OK," she breathed, holding her hand against his forehead, "you were burning up, and we couldn't lift you from your spot on the floor, or-"

"I'm fine, Mum, you don't need to fuss over me," Selim whispered, so quietly that only his mother could hear.

But he didn't really feel fine though. His feet felt like stones and he was probably on the verge of throwing up. It was an effort to keep his eyes open and maybe he could sleep forever.

He just wanted to go home. Back to where he knew it was safe.

Back to where things didn't hurt.

But… didn't things hurt at home, too? Would he ever be able to escape that pain?

He was too tired to think.

Olivier was beside them too, a short distance away talking to Belvadier.

"Selim," she called, beckoning him over with her hand, "I need to tell you something."

Clutching onto his mother's arm, the boy staggered over to where the Fuhrer was standing. He tried to stand up straight, something at the back of his mind faintly telling him that this was the ruler of the country and that he should pay her respect.

But did he remember that before? When he shouted and screamed at her?

He winced inwardly at the thought, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her presence. As if things couldn't get any worse.

Humiliating himself in front of the leader of Amestris. So much for pride or dignity.

He cleared his throat as best he could, but his voice had suddenly become raspy again, "what is it, Fuhrer Olivier?"

"I wanted to inform you that your mother and I have made a few phone calls. We definitely do not want this happening to you again, so we've sent for an old friend of hers to pay you a visit."

"Will they be able to help me?" Selim didn't sound very convinced. The last time this happened he had spiralled down into, well… this.

"We think so. You've met him before, but only when you were very young. His name is Edward Elric."

"Edward… Elric?"

_Oh, Mr Half-Pint Alchemist, you'll always be my role model._

Selim blinked.

"Is he… an alchemist?"

A fraction of a frown flashed across Oliver's face as she replied, "no. He's a farmer from a village south-east of here called Resembool."

"Oh…OK. When is he coming?"

"Probably in a few weeks' time."

"That'll be… nice."

"We should leave now, sweetie," Mrs Bradley suddenly said to her son, most likely realising the time "I heard Elysia's here."

"I'm not really too bothered about seeing her," Selim looked towards the floor with a tired sigh, hiding his expression as they left the room and the people in the lab coats behind.

As he walked further through the house, he vaguely registered Elysia appearing beside him with Thomas. She said nothing, and he was thankful for that. It was not the time to talk.

_You really had me fooled, Selim._

He didn't know why he was smiling.

* * *

><p>The doors of the train finally opened and Maes smiled excitedly, determined to be the first one off and get a good look at Central's east station.<p>

He jumped down off the train and onto the platform and looked around, Alphonse and Edward coming up behind him.

"Wow…." he muttered.

He'd never seen anything so big in his life. The whole place was bustling with people going places, and the noises of their talking mixed with the sounds of departing and arriving trains was almost deafening. The entire roof of the station was glass, supported by large metal beams, to make the most of the sun and it kind of seemed to Maes like he was outside, but the walls around the building told him that this was not so. The air was thick with the smell of steam from the trains and he could almost taste the impurities in the air, but it completely went over his head. He was in _Central_. The capital city of Amestris – for the first time in his life. That, on its own, was just amazing.

"So," Alphonse patted him on the shoulder, "what do you think?"

"It's amazing," he grinned, "is the whole city like this? Big, I mean."

"It definitely is. Your father and I have been here many times before. You wouldn't believe how many times he was put into hosp-"

His uncle was interrupted by a short cough from his brother and they both turned round to see a tall man walking towards them.

"It's great to see you again, Fullmetal." Maes realised he was talking to his father. Edward just frowned.

Fullmetal? What kind of a nickname was that?

"Likewise, Colonel Bastard," Ed retorted.

"That's _General_ Bastard to you," he ruffled the shorter man's hair like he was a child.

"Maes," Edward spoke through gritted teeth, "allow me to introduce you to… _General_… Mustang."

The boy's eyes widened and he took a step back in surprise. "This man is… General Mustang?"

"The one and only," he replied, a smirk appearing on his face. His black hair was untidy but kept in a way that looked presentable. His dark eyes had no bags underneath and his face showed no signs of the fact he was in his mid-forties – his age being something which Maes had found out about when he was doing his military studies project on the higher-ups. "And who might you be?"

"M…Maes Elric, Sir," he wasn't sure whether he was supposed salute or not, so he did anyway.

Mustang raised an eyebrow at Alphonse. "Yours?"

Ed boiled.

Al looked embarrassed, "No, Sir. Maes is Brother's and Winry's son."

Mustang sniggered, "seriously? Well, he doesn't get his manners from you, Edward, that's for sure."

Maes' father still said nothing, but he knew that it wouldn't take much more for him to crack.

"We've arranged a place for you in the military dorms," the general continued, changing the subject, "it's equivalent to a major's suite, taking into account you previous rank, so expect something nice, but not too overly fancy."

Maes looked back up at Mustang's face after staring at the man's medals in disbelief, "my father was in the military once? When? He was barely and adult when I was born."

Mustang looked at Edward, a slightly muddled expression on his face, to which the younger man replied silently with a narrowing of his eyes and a subtle shake of his head.

"He was just in the school," Mustang said after a while, "ranks are easier to achieve there and Edward moved up quite quickly."

"But then I left when Winry was having you," his father added.

Maes, not sure what to think, frowned.

More questions now?

There was an awkward silence until Alphonse spoke up. "Let's go, shall we?" he picked up his suitcase and began to walk, leaving the others no choice but to follow behind him.

* * *

><p>Elysia sighed and set her flute back down on the stand. She checked her watch – it was almost four o'clock.<p>

A light evening breeze blew in through her window and she shut it, irritated.

Apparently she was going out with Selim to dinner today.

What we she supposed to make of that?

She laid down on top of her bed, deep in thought. He seemed so depressed when she'd seen him a few weeks ago and, like any decent friend should be, she was worried about him.

Selim never used to act this strange. She'd only seen him for a few minutes, but he was nothing like the carefree, innocent and slightly naïve boy she was used to. Elysia wondered what in the world got him into that state, and maybe how to get him out. Was he OK now? Was he over it – whatever it was? She would find out soon enough, but he had been on her mind ever since she had seen his dead eyes and pale face. He had looked completely defeated, but…

She sat up, focusing on a picture in her memory.

Elysia ran through the scene of her, Thomas and Selim making their way to the front door of Armstrong's mansion back in her head slowly, thinking about what she could see on his face, the way his bangs seemed to cover most of it almost on purpose, his expression…

Was he… grinning?

* * *

><p>"Well, this was tidier than I expected it to be," Alphonse admitted as they walked into the room.<p>

"Tidier?" Maes echoed, "that's an understatement."

The room was flawless. Three beds lined the walls without a single crease in the blanket. Military standard, as expected, he guessed, eyes running over the spotless glass on the windows. The view out of them was a picturesque sight of Central command, the early evening sun blackening the sharp but elegant edges of the castle-like headquarters.

Opening one up, Maes stuck his head out and looked down, working out that they were on the third floor. Soldiers and recruits with office jobs were hurrying about below him, trying their best to finish off the larger jobs before their shift ended.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the breeze, letting the air of a new place fill his senses. But he wasn't sure why he liked it so much – the military wasn't exactly the nicest place to be. How could he feel so at home here? And it was just his first time in the capital city, too. He knew he should have been longing for open space. Why was he suddenly so used to this dirtier city? Maybe it was his father. He might have spent a lot of time here as a child.

But, to be honest, right now, he didn't care.

He vaguely registered in the back of his mind that Mustang was expecting them to meet him and some of Edward's old military superiors for dinner, just before leaving. It brought Maes back from his thoughts and he turned to lock eyes with his father, scowling as he remembered all of the questions he needed to ask.

"You didn't even tell me you were in the military," he said irritably.

Ed looked taken aback, but only a bit. Sharing his son's slightly immature personality, he frowned too. "You seemed OK with it earlier," he pointed out, putting his case on one of the beds.

"Yeah, well maybe it was because I was in front of _General Mustang_? You know, someone I actually kind of respect? I've asked about him since my military studies project back when I was ten - three years ago - and it never once registered in your mind to tell me that he was your _direct superior_? I… I just…" Maes drifted off. He was angry, but he didn't want to become like Edward and rage at the top of his voice. That was the opposite of what he was trying to do. Marginally quieter, he clenched his fists together and said, "I just hate you, Dad. And now it seems like there's more I don't know. What is up with you?"

Edward, who was just as red in the face as his child, refused to say anything. He pouted and his face was scrunched up with a mixture of anger, embarrassment and betrayal.

Alphonse, However, appeared to be the polar opposite of his brother as he put his hands on Maes' shoulders and whispered in his ear calmly, "why don't you give you father time to cool off and go and explore? Be back in an hour so we can go down to dinner."

"I don't see why _he's_ the one that needs to 'cool off', but fine." Glumly, the boy nodded his head, eyes still narrowed to icy-blue slits. Without another word, he left the room, closing the door behind him again.

But he wasn't even going to think about leaving yet. Alphonse was obviously going to talk to Ed, so now was his chance to finally get some of the answers he so desperately felt he deserved.

Carefully, he crouched down on one knee after checking that no one was walking through the corridor and pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear through the thick wood.

Maes heard a creak as the two brothers sat down on their respective beds.

"Brother, you-" Al began.

"Save it, Al," Ed replied gloomily, his voice sounding much more defeated that usual, "I know I'm in the wrong here."

There was a long silence after that and during it, Maes considered what his father just said with surprise. His father, admitting he'd done something wrong? It was so out of character it seemed almost criminal.

Then Edward spoke again, taking a deep breath before he did so, "when Winry had Maes I was so happy – I knew he would give me a chance to be a better father than Hohenheim. Then things began appearing out of nowhere, you know? Things I couldn't escape. Like you becoming a prince of Xing, when we went to the border to visit Julia or when I went to help block the tunnels. Time has gone by so quickly, and every time I returned home he seemed so much older. I can count on my fingers how many times I've seen Nina. This is the exact opposite of how I dreamed he was supposed to grow up. We went without a father for most of our childhood, Al, and then he just went and died on us. On my travels, part of me dreaded that Winry would end up like Mum, getting ill and dying also before I came home. I wanted so badly to be there for them, but now I…" he trailed off.

"Maybe if you tell Maes all of this, he'll forgive you, Brother," Alphonse suggested quietly.

"But it would lead to even more questions," Ed replied miserably, "he thinks all his grandparents are still alive, living in Drachma. We never told him Winry's maiden name so he wouldn't see the graves in Resembool's own cemetery. I don't know how she managed to keep him from seeing our parents'. Winry lost almost all contact with Mrs. Hughes as soon as we named him. If he found out about Maes, well, it would lead to him finding out about everything. I don't want him to have the same messed up childhood as we had, Al. Now that you're really here we can put it all at the back of our minds, with just my leg to remind us what we went through all those years ago," Edward's speech seemed to be breaking up, and it appeared to Maes that he was crying.

Maes didn't think they said anything after that. If they did, he wouldn't have heard it, because he was too busy wiping the tears out of his eyes as he remembered the pain in his father's voice.

**Danny: *sobs***

**Me: Danny…**

**Danny: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?  
>Me: Danny, I don't think the readers are sad…<strong>

**Danny: … huh?**

**Me: I didn't write it with intention to make people cry.**

**Danny: You made Maes and Ed cry.**

**Me: *headdesk* Anyway, in the next chapter Maes and Selim are going to meet! Elysia will meet Maes in due time, but she has something coming up that will delay that…**

**Danny: So, until then, reviews are appreciated! Even it's just a full stop, we'll take it!**

**Me: And that competition is still open, and since quite a few people have been asking, I'm going to let anyone enter now! And thanks for everyone that's entered so far! I need to stop using exclamation marks!**

**Danny: No exclamation mark? OK – bye.**


	7. Signs of Shadowed Minds

**Danny: 11/12 reviews! Guys, thank you so much!**

**Me: I think this is our new record, Danny. We should celebrate by replying nicely and smiling all the time.**

**Danny: Yes, yes we shall.**

**DoctorWhotaliaandtheOlympians**: Well, if you say you're not, I guess you're not. But you can have a tissue anyway.

**Anne Camp aka Obi-quiet**: Really? Maybe… *shrugs*. A lot of stuff was kind of building up before and I think it was just his own way of letting it out. Here's more for you!

**D12T:** Thank you! Here's another non-Korra related thing for your inbox :)

**Candycanelover**: You think so? Well, that is just his character. Ed was kind of a brat towards Hoho… here's another chapter for you! It involves aliens! Well, kind of…

**Awesome**: Thanks so much! There will more than just a few more chapters. I would like to make this as long as possible, but not so long as to start boring people :)

**Harryswoman**: Thank you- I'm glad to hear you liked it! Here's your update and thanks for your answer, too :3

**RubytheJewel**: Does this count as soon? I don't think it doesn… but the next chappie after this will be VERY soon :)

**Mdotaku**: here's more! Thanks for the review!

**Violetlight**: Did I tell you when the winners will be announced via PM? I don't remember… XD

**Adjacent to Addiction**: Cheeky XD thanks for all the lovely words! I adore long reviews, they make me feel the happiest and when people submit them I love reading every word and I feel all warm inside :) really looking forward to your fic!

**soulevans31**: Here's an update! And Soul Eater was my first anime when I actually knew what anime was, so your pen name is awesomesauce :)

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 7: Signs of Shadowed Minds<strong>_

It took Maes a while to come to his senses after that.

Sniffing, he blinked a few times and pulled his hands away from his face. He would have groaned, but Edward and Alphonse would have been able to hear him from the other side of the door. Instead he just frowned, feeling like he should kick himself. Letting emotions get the better of him wasn't what he was supposed to be doing.

He clenched his fists, frustrated. Tears were still tricking out of the corners of his eyes. This was all his father's fault again, making him cry and all that. And now he was starting to feel guilty about wanting to know the answers. He knew some now, he finally _knew_ some, but his brain was too full to comprehend what he had learned. Stupid Edward.

Silently, he shook his head and stood up, trying to breathe more evenly and get the redness off of his face. He didn't want to look so flushed when he saw his father and uncle again. How long had it been anyway? He looked down the corridor at the grandfather clock at the end.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. It had been a whole hour! How could he have sat for so long, just crying? Pathetic.

He wiped the last few stray tears from his cheeks and set his right hand on the door handle, the metal suddenly seeming colder and more unforgivable than before. He winced.

_Get a hold of yourself, Maes,_ he thought firmly.

Without bothering to knock, he pushed it down and let the door open before he could tell himself otherwise.

The first person he saw was Alphonse, who was closing the windows and drawing the curtains.

"It's five o'clock," he said to Ed, who Maes saw sitting on a bed with his nose in a book, "we should go and find Maes. Dinner's in a quarter of an hour."

Ed grunted tiredly in response, closing what he was reading.

It appeared that neither of them had noticed him yet, so Maes sniffed one final time and glanced at a mirror behind him, checking once again that his face was more normal-looking.

"Hello?" was the only thing he could think of to say.

Alphonse turned round first, "oh, Maes, you're back. We were actually about to come and find you."

They both looked towards Edward, who was fixing his hair into a tighter ponytail.

Maes ran through everything his father had said in his mind. There was so much information he could get from it, but even now, staring into his face (which had no sign of the sadness that was apparent earlier), everything was still jumbled up. Like alphabet soup.

The boy smiled a bit at the thought and Ed gave him a strange look, obviously wondering why his son whom he had had an argument with an hour ago was grinning. Realising what he was doing, the boy quickly set his face to a small frown, hastily looking back at his uncle, who was now putting his shoes on.

"Time to go," Alphonse said, "it's going to be cold out tonight, so get your coat out of your suitcase, Maes. You'll probably need it."

Maes nodded and walked over to his case as his uncle once again glanced at Edward. "Brother!" he said, frustrated, "you've got something gross on your shirt."

Edward looked down at his top, frowning, "right. Probably from the apple pie earlier. I'll change." He waved his hand at his son, "Maes, pass me a new shirt, will you? My case is just over there."

The boy said nothing, but chucked him one anyway.

"Thanks," his father muttered softly.

Edward slowly began to peel off his top, being careful not to get any of the sticky substance on his face or in his hair, "ugh," he grimaced, "gross."

Suddenly Maes looked up again, a flash of something metal catching in the corner of his eye. He stared, wide-eyed at his father, who was still unfolding his new shirt.

There, attached to his right collarbone, was a large bolt. Maes blinked. Scars and more metal scraps seemed to wrap around the beginning of his arm and the edge of his chest like a dark bandage.

One look and he knew he'd seen something like that before, almost every day down in the basement of his own home.

Automail scars.

But where was the automail?

"D-dad," Maes started, "your chest – it's…"

* * *

><p>"So, Elysia, what would like to eat?" Mrs Bradley smiled from her end of the table.<p>

The girl replied with not much more than a frown, green eyes scanning over the menu.

The food on offer was really too high class for her, unusually small, full of exotic ingredients and given strange-sounding names. Well, she wasn't surprised. Where she had been invited to eat, after all, was a stylish restaurant that seemed to been in the favour of the military higher-ups – Fuhrer Olivier often visited on the weekends and she was even in here now, finishing her starter.

Elysia glanced at Selim, who was seated in between her and the Fuhrer. Olivier seemed to follow him everywhere now, or maybe General Miles if she was out on business.

Just by looking at the woman's face, she knew something was wrong, although on the other hand Selim, whom she seemed so interested in, seemed strangely oblivious to everything. He stirred his soup slowly with his spoon, eyebrows cynically raised with boredom as he did so. Elysia was worried about him – the boy had been acting so strangely ever since she saw him at the mansion a few weeks ago.

"Elysia...?" Mrs Bradley's voice became slightly more impatient as the girl stared blankly at the food options, but that seemed to bring her out of it.

"Uh… yes!" she flushed bright red, embarrassed, "I'll have the…. the…"

She paused again, still having no idea what half of the food on the menu was.

"Have today's fish," Selim said without looking up, "it's salmon. Good stuff."

Elysia agreed instantly, wanting to escape from the awkward situation. "Yeah, I'll have the salmon, please."

The waiter gave her a funny look, obviously not used to seeing someone like her come to such an expensive restaurant. But, nonetheless, he shrugged and wrote her order down in his notebook.

Elysia suddenly wished that the cliché about the floor swallowing someone up was real.

As he left, the girl glanced back at Selim. He was now at least trying some of his soup, taking small sips and then wiping his mouth with a napkin.

When he felt her gaze, the black haired boy stared back at her blankly.

"What?"

Elysia jumped, startled, then quickly composed herself. Her face fell to a look of concern. "Selim, are you feeling OK?" she asked quietly.

He gave her a puzzled look, "of course. Why?"

"You're acting," she glimpsed around to check that no adults were watching their conversation before finishing, "really weird."

The boy added a frown to his expression and put down his spoon. "Weird? How?"

Elysia half-shrugged, "you're usually much more… uh…" she trailed off.

Selim looked unconvinced.

"And look," she carried on, thinking of something else and pointing to his starter, "leek and potato. That's your favourite soup and you've barely touched it."

The boy blinked, staring down into his food, then back up at the girl. "I'm not hungry," he stated simply.

"Oh really?" Elysia raised an eyebrow, "when was the last time you ate?"

He suddenly became even more distant and appeared to be thinking hard, eyes wandering up to look at the ceiling as he did so.

His mouth opened and he went to say something, then stopped, clearly changing his mind.

"I don't know," he admitted casually, "yesterday, maybe?"

"And you're not hungry?"

"Pardon?"

"You just told me you weren't hungry, Selim."

"Did I?"

Elysia sighed. She wasn't sure what to think. Should she be frustrated with him because he was being so unresponsive, almost on purpose? Or genuinely concerned, because maybe he wasn't meaning to be so detached?

"Selim, I know something's wrong. What is it?"

The boy just stared at her.

Elysia sighed again.

"Excuse me," she said to everyone at the table, standing up and nodding to the Fuhrer.

She quickly located the toilet and walked inside, going straight to the sinks. She washed her face to try and cool down, not really sure what she was doing. She just needed a break, but she didn't know why. Was it her worry for Selim? He was definitely ill or _something_.

Elysia yawned and checked her watch. She groaned when she realised it wasn't even half past five yet. She was already so tired and she hadn't had dinner.

And what was all this worry for anyway?

Selim. But why was she worried about Selim?

She knew why. Yes, she knew very well why. That memory, the one of him, her and Thomas walking to the front door of the Armstrong mansion. Every time she played it out she could see the chilling, unnatural grin spread across his face like some sort of a twisted circus clown clearer and clearer.

That was _not_ the boy she had known for years.

She took some lipstick out of her purse and applied another thin coat, turning her lips a darker shade of red.

Elysia knew she needed to find a way to get through to him, because it was obvious that he was at least distracted somewhat, and whatever it was, it was what was causing him to be so… withdrawn. And as for that smile, she didn't know. She shuddered. What could have caused him to react like that, and then suddenly become so unresponsive all of a sudden?

She jumped as her make-up bag was knocked to the floor and turned round to see a woman standing next to her, not much younger than her mother.

"Sorry!" The lady exclaimed, bending down to pick it up, "I didn't see you."

"Oh, that's fine," Elysia replied as she took it back from her.

She shook her head in embarrassment, her long black hair falling around her face. "It's a good thing these floors are clean," she laughed sheepishly, "bathrooms are sometimes so dirty."

"Absolutely," the girl agreed, putting her lipstick back into the purse.

"I'm Rebecca," the woman smiled as she leaned over the sink to wash her hands.

"Elysia," Elysia replied.

"Elysia? Well, that's a lovely… oh," Rebecca paused, suddenly turning round to face her. "You wouldn't happen to be Elysia _Hughes_, would you?"

She nodded, "yes. Why?"

The woman frowned, "I never thought that I'd meet you, but here we are over a decade later and you've grown so much."

"Excuse me?"

"I knew your father from when I was in the military," she admitted sadly, "it was such a shock when he was shot, I tell you-"

"Wait. My father was _murdered_?"

Rebecca's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Your father, Maes Hughes. Yes? I remember seeing you with your mother at his funeral. You were both too out of it, so I didn't come over to give my condolences. Come to think of it, Riza stayed behind with General Mustang for a while instead of going back into town with me as well…"

Elysia shook her head, unsatisfied, "no, that's not what I meant. No one ever said my father was killed. I was never told how he died."

The lady let out a small gasp and took a step forward, putting her hands on Elysia's shoulders. "Elysia," she whispered, "I'm so, so sorry."

"No, please, Miss Rebecca, it's OK," she replied, lightly pushing her away. "I'm fine. I just," she tried to stop the tears that were suddenly forming in her eyes from falling, "…I just want to be alone now. Thank you. I'll say hello to my mother for you."

"Of course," Rebecca nodded her head quickly and quickly left the bathroom, too uncomfortable to say anymore.

Elysia felt her back press against the wall and she slid down until she hit the floor, ignoring the cold from the tiles. She wiped her face to try and get rid of the tears, but her hand came back smudged with red from her lipstick.

She let out a small whimper and put her chin to her knees, trying to curl up into as small a ball as possible.

Shaking her head to herself, she tried to calm herself down. She knew this emotion wasn't good for her and the stress was starting to take its toll already.

_It's not like this new information about my father is any more important_, she told herself, _it's not like I can do anything with it. It's not like knowing the cause of someone's death can bring them back to life. It's not like I remember him very well anyway._ _Just carry on helping Selim. He's alive. He's more important right now, he-_

"Elysia Hughes," a voice spoke from the other side of the bathroom.

"Please, Miss Rebecca, I just want to be alone for a…" she trailed off when she felt something pressed against her face.

It was more freezing and hard than the floor. Small, and maybe somewhat sharp as it dug into her cheek.

She didn't have to look up to know it was a gun.

"If you're quiet," the voice spoke again, "this doesn't have to be hard at all. Just come with us and we promise we won't hurt you. Father just wants to ask you some questions."

"Who is 'Father'?" she heard herself ask in a mutter, still keeping her head down and very focused on her shoes.

"You do not need to know that. I'll repeat. Come with us, Elysia Hughes."

And that is exactly what she found herself doing.

* * *

><p>"<em>Not a word.<em>" Alphonse had said to him as he was rushed out of the dorm door, "_We'll talk later. Go_

_down for dinner now and don't say anything._"

The next thing Maes knew was that he was at the dinner table with General Mustang seated one side of him, and his uncle on the other.

He didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to even think about it.

All of these questions were actually starting to _scare_ him.

Something wasn't right, and deep down in his subconscious he knew that he had to find out more, to finally get to the bottom of what was really up with his father – his relationship with the Fuhrer, military school, the whole 'Fullmetal' thing. And the automail. No one could grow an arm back. It wasn't physically possible. One would have to be an alien or something.

His eyes widened. Was his father an alien?

Did that make _him_ an alien? Or half-alien?

He paled considerably and put his menu down.

"Maes, are you OK?" he heard the General ask him, "you look like you're about to be sick."

"No, I'm fine," he insisted, shaking his head. Although that was more for himself. Aliens didn't exist. He was acting stupid again.

Trying to calm down, he sucked in a deep breath and stared at the food options for the hundreth time, trying to pick a starter. He needed to distract himself, and trying to work out what all of the food was was the best option. He frowned. The food in central was so different from the things his mother had fed him back in Resembool.

"I'll take some garlic bread with cheese, please," Alphonse said to the waiter. Maes decided to copy.

"Yes, me too, please."

"Just to let you know, her excellency Fuhrer Olivier is here this evening," the waiter said to the table as he finished writing down everyone's orders.

"The shemale...?" Maes glanced around, looking for where she was seated.

"Shh," Alphonse elbowed his side, "don't say things like that, Maes. It's rude."

The blonde replied with a smirk and shrug, but then he stopped when his eyes fell on Edward.

Maes whitened again when he could just make out the edge of the scar sticking out of the collar of his father's shirt.

"So, tell me about yourself, Maes" the boy turned to see Mustang looking at him, a curious expression on his face, "what's it like with Fullmetal as you father?"

"I don't really see him much," Maes admitted, glad that someone was almost giving him something else to do, although he didn't really like the fact that Mustang wanted to talk about his father, "but I guess he's… OK. He's always out on long trips and when he comes home he's all moody. It gets annoying and we argue a lot."

"I see," the general's voice didn't display any reaction, "I guess that's expected. Edward never was the kind of boy to stay in one place for long. He's been to so many places around Amestris. I argued with him a lot, too."

"Really? I guess my dad kind of does that to people. Although he doesn't really do anything like that with my mum. They get along well."

"How is Winry?"

"Mum's fine. She's at home with Nina right now and May Chang. You know Alphonse's fiancée?"

"Yes, I've met her before a few times. And your sister's called Nina, you said? Nina and Maes…" Mustang trailed off, appearing to be in deep thought. Suddenly his expression came to somewhat of surprise and curiosity and he shot a look at Edward.

"What?" The blonde asked, irritated.

"You called your kids Nina and Maes." It was more of a statement than a question

"Yeah, so what?"

Mustang just stared at him, a hint of a frown on his face.

"Sir, is there anything wrong with my name?" Maes looked up at him.

"Oh, no, of course not," Mustang replied rapidly, "it's absolutely fine. I just knew a Maes and Nina, that was all."

Alphonse decided to speak up at this time, pointing to a table not too far away. "Look," he said, "there's the Fuhrer, sitting there."

Maes quickly turned to where he was indicating and saw her talking to an older-looking woman, a casual but distinguished expression on her face.

"And it seems like Selim Bradley's with her, too," Ed noticed, "he was talking to a girl just now, but I couldn't see her face from here and she just left."

"Selim Bradley? Where?"

So he was here? Maes craned his neck to get a look.

His eyes fell on a tiny black haired boy, seated next to Olivier. He looked depressed and somewhat cold and Maes noticed that he had barely eaten any of his soup.

The boy's face softened for the first time in ages. _Poor guy_, he thought,_ those nightmares really look like they're taking a toll on him._

He almost fell off his chair when saw the boy was suddenly staring right back at him. Selim's expression stayed neutral for a moment, eyes blank and distant, and then ever so slowly it started to develop into a crooked grin that Maes didn't think he would ever forget.

* * *

><p><strong>Danny: Oh, Hayden, all that anime with rich people has gone to your head. It's not doing you good and now it's leaking into your story.<strong>

**Me: … I can watch Black Butler if I want to, OK?**

**Danny: But then there's Ouran**

**Me: I finished that in December**

**Danny: And Tegami Bachi**

**Me: That hardly counts!**

**Danny: Or the rich girl in Birdy the Mighty…**

**Me: Just drop it.**

**Danny: *smirks* I'm not giving in, Hayden.**

**Me: *Pulls out Fenton Thermos and sucks Danny inside* Heh, I've never thought of using that before. Anyway, since it's summer, updates are guaranteed to be on Sundays from now on, or maybe even sooner! And did you know that the main antagonist in this fic is actually a canon character? It's not _the _Father, by the way. He's dead like he should be at the end of canon :) But can you guess? It's not obvious at all XD I'm actually really pleased with how this chapter came out – I was so panicky about writing this one, seriously, Maes' character was so difficult here. But looking back, I'm happy with how it was finished. So review and I'll see you soon! And tomorrow's the start of the Olympics! Yeah!**

**Danny: *Muffling from inside thermos* No responsibility is claimed by MiniHayden for giving people nightmares trying to imagine Selim/Pride's smile. Yeah, Hayden drew it so she could picture it better and now I'm creeped out too.**


	8. The Purple Veil

**Danny: Hayden, this is very strange.**

**Me: Strange? Strange how?**

**Danny: People are starting to think the homunculi are coming back…**

**Me: But I didn't say that they did! They all died :( (well, besides Pride). The people who took Elysia aren't homunculi…**

**Danny: Alright, that's enough. Review reply time!**

**soulevans31:** Did it? Yay! I'll be sure to check it out :)

**Violetlight:** How's Wheels Within Wheels going? Oh, and yes, I _loved_ writing Mustang's reaction to Ed's kid's names. I like writing for Mustang in general actually and have a few fics planned for him in the future XD Thanks for your review!

**Harryswoman:** THANKYOU! (see, I returned some of your capital letters lol) here's the next chapter for you!

**D12T:** And here's even more!

**DoctorWhotaliaandtheOlympian s:** Oh, no. Ed and Al probably won't be running off to fight homunculi at the moment :( that's only because they're not here right now… *wink*

**Adjacent to Addiction**: Thanks for the longest review of the chapter! And, yes, salmon is wonderful. Hopefully this chapter should give you some answers!

**Fezberry:** Thanks again ;) you're just as awesome, you know :3

_**A New Way to Bleed, Chapter 8: The Purple Veil**_

Time ticked by and all that seemed to surround Elysia was darkness. Her blindfold and gag were both tied tight and she felt them digging hard into her skin, probably red and raw by now. Her hands and feet were both bound together and the pressure of the gun never left her cheek, although at some points it had lessened a bit.

The person who held her at gunpoint was getting just as tired as she was. Maybe that would eventually give her a chance to escape.

She at least knew that she was in some kind of transportation. The ground was constantly moving up and down beneath her and she for a while she could her the noise of the road outside, but then that quickly died down and Elysia guessed the place where she was being taken to wasn't exactly in the middle of Central.

Suddenly the ground seemed to slope and she felt herself lean forward slightly as her ride went further down. The gun against her cheek dug in harder for a second as she jerked and she winced, letting out a small yelp as she felt it cut her skin.

It was another long while before they finally came to a stop, and Elysia wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened at that. Her thoughts once again circled back round to what she was actually doing here and why she was being taken. Why wasn't she struggling again? Oh, the gun. She kept forgetting that.

"Stand up." It was the same voice that spoke every time she received an instruction. But she didn't think it came from the gun holder. Whoever was speaking was further away and their voice was monotone, robotic almost. Like they were under some kind of mind control.

She was directed out of whatever she was inside, but from the space around her she knew that it wasn't a car. A cart headed by a horse, or a train maybe - the step down was quite large.

It was dark when she got out, too. She didn't know how she knew, but the way the air seemed to grow colder around her and the feeling of being closed in started to suggest that she could have been inside some kind of tunnel or cave. Her footsteps had a faint echo to them, and so did the voice as it talked.

"Like I said earlier, Father has some questions for you, Elysia Hughes. We are taking you to him. Do not react to whatever happens. You will not be hurt if you do as we say."

A few steps later and things seemed to grow noticeably warmer and Elysia registered the sound of a crackling flame nearby.

As they walked, she felt herself get closer and closer to the heat – so close that she thought she was being taken to wherever she was being taken to to be burnt to death, but someone abruptly yanked her to a stop. The cotton of her blindfold was thinner then she expected, because if she opened her eyes she could make out silhouettes of figures in front of the firelight. But the cloth irritated and burned her eyes, so she quickly shut them again, waiting patiently for the chance to have it taken off.

_Remember what they said_, she told herself firmly, _if you try to escape, they'll hurt you. Just wait until they let you go. They promised they would._

Wait… did they say that?

Someone pushed her downwards, forcing her onto the floor, before she could continue her train of thought.

"Father is sitting before you, Elysia Hughes. Answer him truthfully and honestly and you shall not be punished."

"Yes, Ok," she finally managed to hold the nerve to reply, "but will you let me g-"

"Silence."

The voice was neither loud nor threatening, but for some reason its very sound seemed to make you want to stop talking instantly. It made Elysia vaguely think of the Fuhrer, but it was hard to believe that she was involved in something like this. And besides, it was a man's voice that had spoken. It was coming from directly in front of her, slightly higher up – as if he was sitting on a raised platform.

"My children have brought you here so that I can ask you some questions that are vital for what I need to do. Once I have finished, I will consider releasing you. But if I suspect you have left one detail out, I will see to it that you are never to leave here. Am I understood?"

Elysia let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in relief, "yes sir." At least she had a chance of getting out of this place. She didn't want to know who this 'father' guy was, where she was - she didn't want anything to do with it. Her brain was finally beginning to switch to panic mode know. _Get out of here, Elysia, get _out_, now._

"What is your relation to Selim Bradley?"

Even though she could barely see, her head shot up in surprise.

"S-Selim… Bradley?"

"Yes, Elysia Hughes, Selim Bradley."

"He's… one of my best friends."

There was silence for a long while and all Elysia could hear was the sharp crackling flame behind her and the heat from it on her back. The gun was still painfully jammed into her cheek, the weapon moving up and down slightly as the person who held it there took a deep breath.

"How long have you known him for?"

"A long time…" she trailed off, trying to work it out as best she could, "ever since I was little. I can't remember the first time I met him, we were so young…"

"How old is he? And you?"

_If he wants to know about Selim_, she thought, _why can't he kidnap him and bring him here? Surely he'd get so many more answers._

"I'm eighteen and he's fifteen."

"And his mother?"

"I don't know," she replied truthfully, "but she's… she's quite old, I guess. Old for a mother, I suppose."

"Do you know anything about his personal life?"

"Yeah, naturally, a lot. His hobbies, what food he likes, his favourite places-"

"But do you _really_ know?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you believe there's more about him that you don't know that you think might be important?"

_That smile._

Elysia didn't like this at all. This 'father' was manipulating her thoughts, twisting them, bringing back memories that she didn't want to remember.

_Elysia, you need to leave. Now,_ she repeated to herself in her head,_ this man isn't… right_. _This whole place isn't right. The gun on your cheek isn't right. Selim isn't right-_

She stopped her train of thought. Of course Selim was right! They were best friends!

_But do you _really _know? _

_That smile_.

"There could be, I'm not sure." She finally spoke out loud.

"Are you interested in finding these things out?"

_Elysia, get OUT._

"I… I don't know," she admitted truthfully, "Maybe."

* * *

><p>"Look, Selim," his mother spoke for the first time in a while and he looked up from his soup to see her looking at him, "Edward Elric's here – the man who's come to speak to you. He's over there, see?" Mrs Bradley pointed across the room to a table full of mostly men in military uniforms.<p>

He absently followed her finger until his eyes rested on a blonde boy seated there, next to General Mustang. He was staring right back at him, his bright blue eyes curious.

_Edward Elric has blue eyes? _He thought to himself, puzzled, _didn't he used to have gold eyes? Wait, when have I seen him before? Why do I know… his eye colour?_

_You don't understand Edward Elric at all!_

Suddenly, he felt himself smile again.

Why? Why was he smiling?

Why didn't he understand Edward Elric? How was he supposed to? He can't even remember meeting him!

_Damn it, I can't transmute!_

Or… could he? _Did_ he remember?

His thoughts were cut off when Edward Elric's face switched to a look of concern, and… a trace of fear?

Selim let his face fall to a frown and he registered the Fuhrer and his mother standing up beside him, obviously intending to go over there and speak to Edward Elric. He got up out of his chair too, leaving his soup again. Elysia was… where?

His head hurt.

He felt his mother take his hand and guide him over to the table. He kept his eyes focused on the blue-but-supposed-to-be-gold-eyed-Edward-Elric constantly and soon he was standing right in front of him, his height meaning that he didn't have to look down much at the sitting boy.

His blonde hair was tied back into a familiar ponytail.

_Familiar?_

"Um… hi," Edward Elric said carefully, staring up at Selim, "my name's Maes. Maes Elric."

"_Maes…_ Elric?" Selim's reply was a little slow.

"And you're Selim Bradley, right?"

_Am I Selim Bradley? Is that my name?_

"Y…yes. I'm Selim Bradley…" he drifted off afterwards, his mind creating pictures that were too hazy to see.

_Snap out of it_.

He blinked a few times, suddenly realising that he himself had thought of that.

And that was exactly what he did.

He hastily cleared his throat and held out his hand to Maes, a large but polite grin appearing on his face. "Yes, sorry," he said, "I'm Selim Bradley. Nice to meet you."

The blonde raised an eyebrow inquisitively before accepting the handshake. "Same, I guess," he replied.

Selim hadn't noticed it before, but now, to him, Maes seemed a little distracted.

"Selim Bradley," a voice said nearby, and he turned to see another blonde, this time older, talking to him. He stepped forward slightly and introduced himself. "I'm Edward Elric. Do you remember me?"

"N…no," he tried to recall the face, like he was sure he was able to do earlier, but his mind came up a blank. "Sorry, I don't. I think I was only very young, though, so…"

"That's OK, I didn't expect you to," he gestured to Maes, "I see you've already met my son, Maes."

"Yeah, I have."

He didn't know why, but Selim didn't like the way Edward was speaking to him. It sounded formal, forced, cautious maybe. As if he really didn't want to, but he knew he had to.

The waiter had now arrived at the table with food, cutting through the awkward silence that had seemed to have formed around himself and the older Elric. The blonde smiled woodenly, taking his seat again. "I'll see you tomorrow morning at Fuhrer Olivier's mansion, Selim."

The boy nodded back, mimicking the grin as he took his mother's hand and returned to his own meal, although he still didn't feel like eating it. He hadn't had much of an appetite for the past few days and it was starting, on top of everything else as well, to bother him.

There were times he knew when he was acting strange, and he could remember them clearly – like when he was speaking with Elysia. It wasn't like he wasn't in control – all of his movements were his own, but he had felt… different. He was sure that there were _thoughts_, though, that he remembered during those times that he couldn't recall now, and Selim knew that they were important. He could still remember the feel of the memories, the _emotion_ in them. And they felt the same as his nightmares. They had the same shady, cold, dark veil hung over them that made him feel isolated. But no pain. He could never remember any pain, which was the only thing that was different.

He stared down into his soup for the hundredth time, his eyes absentmindedly tracing the lumps of vegetables in his soup as an idea formed into his mind.

When those memories came back, he would write them down, draw the images that came into his mind, put them on paper so he could remember them afterwards. That was perfect!

But, then, how would he know when he had those memories? He hadn't ever noticed before – only ever afterwards when a small feeling of loss washed over him - so how would he recognise them?

Elysia.

He could get Elysia to tell him to write things down. Sure, he'd be really out of it, but she'd managed to hold a conversation with him when he was like that.

_Great! _He thought, _I just need to find her._

But… where was she? He frowned. She wasn't sitting beside him.

"Mum?" he asked, "where's Elysia?"

* * *

><p>Maes eyed his father, who was sitting on his bed, his nose in a book. The blonde man had a loose shirt on, again revealing the strange pattern of scars and metal scraps on his shoulder and chest.<p>

Edward has always worn shirts like that, so why hadn't Maes noticed until now?

_Well that's obvious_, he told himself,_ you didn't want anything to do with him_.

But now, he was so determined to find out what he could, it was hard to take his eyes off him.

"Maes?" suddenly a voice came from behind him, and the boy turned around to see Alphonse standing over him, a concerned look on his face, "are you OK?"

Maes, for the first time, looked at Alphonse carefully, properly. He looked, well… normal. Not like that was a bad thing, of course. But his face – especially his eyes – seemed to hold something _else_. Like a memory that was a huge burden. Something he was trying to cover up with that polite smile of his.

Alphonse raised an eyebrow, and the boy realised he hadn't answered his question.

"Oh, um… sorry," he cleared his throat, "I'm fine, uncle Alphonse."

The man looked unconvinced.

He sat down beside him on the dorm's sofa. "Look, Maes. I know what you're thinking," Al nodded to Ed, "but Brother really doesn't like to talk about… what happened to him."

"What _did_ happen to him?"

The man took a deep breath and gave a long sigh, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"I'm sure you've heard of the Eastern Rebellion, right?"

"It's also known as the Ishbalan Rebellion," the boy replied, "they taught us about it at school. But they don't tell us much. I know that a lot of people died and that state alchemists took part. That's it."

"Well, that's the truth," Alphonse said, "the war spread to Resembool and your father lost his leg."

Maes nodded, "yeah, I know that. But what about his a-"

"He never lost his arm properly," his uncle interrupted him, "his shoulder was crushed by a rock and the only way to hold it together while it healed was with a small piece of automail. His skin has grown back over it."

"Really? That's really all that happened?"

Alphonse laughed slightly, "what, you didn't think that he lost an arm then grew it back, did you?"

The boy flushed red slightly out of embarrassment, "of course not! Well… maybe. A little."

The man smiled warmly, all the trace of that 'something else' Maes was worried about gone.

"You know," Alphonse wasn't looking at him now – he was staring into middle distance, "Brother's the only father you're going to get."

"I…I guess."

Suddenly Maes felt like he didn't want to meet his eyes anymore. He stared down at the floor, at his bare feet.

Edward, meanwhile, had been completely oblivious to anything.

That sat there for a while, in a comfortable but slightly awkward silence, until Alphonse yawned.

"It's late," he said, talking to his brother as well as his nephew this time, "we should all be getting to sleep."

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Really didn't want to resort to this," <strong>_Selim heard himself say,_**"but you leave us no choice. We're out of time."**_

His voice was echoed and metallic, like more than one person was speaking at once. His vision was blurred, seemingly coming from all directions. But, yet, he could focus well at the same time. As if he was looking through hundreds of eyes at once instead of just two. His head hurt for a while, but he was slowly starting to adjust.

It scared him.

It really did.

Deep down, the boy knew the faceless man being held down by swords in front of him was all part of this dream world, this place that didn't exist. He just needed to play along with what the dream-world-Selim seemed to be saying and doing.

There was another man there now – no, there was two. One of them was now holding the blades that sliced through the faceless man's hand, the other hung in the air, surrounded by sleek black tendrils that appeared to be coming from…

…him?

The dream-world-Selim didn't care, so he decided not to.

The man holding the blades spoke next, after him, "_if you won't open the portal voluntarily, then we'll make you do it by force, Colonel Mustang."_

Colonel Mustang? But, that man was a _general_. Why was he...?

Suddenly, the faceless man wasn't so faceless anymore. His features faded into view, his black eyes, his messy-but-still-neat hair…

He looked so much younger.

Selim should have been concerned, he knew he should have. A thought deep inside him was calling out to him, telling him that this was wrong. But it was like a deep purple veil had been pulled over his eyes. He _was_ the dream-world-Selim, he realised, unfazed.

"_I'll never do-"_ Mustang started, but the man with blades interrupted him.

"_What you want is irrelevant,"_ he said, his voice low and emotionless, _"Pride has already assimilated an alchemist with the knowledge we need."_

Selim knew who he was talking about. He was the one with the alchemist with the knowledge wrapped up in the black things.

Did that make him… Pride?

Pride was a sin.

Was he a sin?

Dream-world-Selim didn't care.

Dream-world-Selim just smiled, overlooking the scene in front of him with a smug look on his face.

The man with the blades continued, _"this man holds the formula for human transmutation."_

"_Wha-"_ a look of surprise broke through Mustang's pained expression.

"_**I've got him," **_Selim spoke up, _**"stand clear of the circle, Wrath."**_

He felt the black things shift and slide along the floor as if they were his own arm or leg. He felt them wrap around Mustang's wrists, ankles and neck, holding him down on the stone floor.

The man he now knew as Wrath stepped away, wiping some blood that dripped out of his mouth off of his face with the back of his hand.

Selim looked on with a straight face as the whole room seemed to glow a bright purple. The man he held down continued to struggle, but his body seemed to begin to physically break down, his skin dissolving into the air with his screams.

Other people that he now noticed were looking on, calling out to Mustang as he disappeared without a trace, the light slowly dwindling down until the room was left faintly illuminated from the hole in the ceiling above.

The boy felt his face break into a smile again.

**Danny: Phew! That's chapter 8 done!**

**Me: *wipes sweat off of forehead* it's not like you did anything, Danny. And how did you get out of the thermos, anyway?**

**Danny: *smiles* I have my ways…**

**Me: Ugh, honestly *turns to readers* I hope you enjoyed that, guys! Next chapter should be out soon, so review!**

**Danny: Bye!**


	9. Distortion

**Me: As much as I feel bad about saying this, the update was difficult. I want this story to be finished – it's my favourite and I enjoy writing it hopefully as much as you enjoyed reading it. But, like I just said, it was hard to get this chapter out. When was this last updated? August? I apologise for the wait, but it really doesn't help when some of you constantly pester me for updates. Up until October, I was only 13. I am currently in the process of choosing my options for GCSE – something which could affect the rest of my life. Some relatives in my family have died recently, and one is currently very ill. I constantly get homework and I'm learning four languages at the moment (which, is my choice, obviously, but still). I simply do not have the **_**time,**_** yet some people still send me PMs moaning at me constantly to get a chapter out. On some of my other fics, I've even got flames calling me a horrible liar and other things and that just make me feel even less motivated. Thank you very much to my kind reviewers/PMers who consider that I actually have a **_**life**_**, a ten-hour school day because of distance and right to be sociable and go out with friends. Ignore this message if you haven't said anything, please, it's not your fault. I'm just putting this out there. I'm not doing replies so I can get this chapter out as soon as possible. Thanks and enjoy the update :)**

_**A New Way to Bleed, Chapter 9: Distortion**_

Mrs Bradley hung up the phone, a worried sigh escaping from her lips as she sat back down on the sofa again.

Selim felt her arms wrap around his shoulders and he leaned into his mother's embrace, his voice small as her spoke to her.

"Have they found her yet?"

"No, Selim," she replied quietly, "they haven't."

"Oh…OK" the boy couldn't think of anything else to say in reaction as he leaned forward for his second hot chocolate of the morning.

He was still shaking from the night before, a cold, unwelcome feeling settling deep inside him as he once more remembered his dream.

Yes, _remembered_. He could recall every single second of it, each feeling, each emotion, everything that was physically _spoken_.

It was already late spring, but the winter hadn't seemed to have left Amestris. That was especially noticeable in the mornings, mostly, when the sun hadn't risen and the air was still chilly from the cold nights.

Every time he closed his eyes to try and block out the dark atmosphere following Elysia's disappearance, the memory of the dream he had was back, playing over and over again in his mind no matter how hard he tried to make it go away.

_**I've got him, stand clear of the circle, Wrath**_

He hated that way that had sounded. The voice, _his_ voice, seemed to piece through the air like a knife, the sound reverberating at the back of your mind like a hundred speakers from a poorly tuned-in radio were jammed into your ears. It was distorted and metallic.

Inhuman.

And, what's more, he knew that he was capable of making that voice again. He hadn't tried to yet, but he could sort of feel it, like when you can feel a lump deep down in your throat that you can't quite reach, except Selim was sure he could. He would have to try it when he was alone, see if it really worked.

But, then, if it _did_ work, wouldn't everything else work? Did that mean that everything in his dream actually happened? Did General, or Colonel, Mustang really dissolve into that light? There was that man known as 'Wrath', too – who was he? And those horrible black, snack-like tendrils that made Selim shiver every time he pictured them…

"Do you want breakfast, dear?" his mother's voice cut off his thoughts, "it's about the right time of the morning for it."

The black-haired boy glanced at the clock on the wall. It was seven thirty now, which meant he had been awake for four and a half hours following his dream. And his mother had been by his side all through that time.

He loved her. He truly, honestly did.

"Yes, please," he answered.

Mrs Bradley smiled warmly, her expression so opposite from the cold air around them and stood up, pushing her son gently to the side and laying his head on a cushion. She pulled the blanket that was draped down around his back further up to cover his shoulders.

"There was a time before you were born that ice completely surrounded this city," she told him just before she left, "and the mornings have been cold ever since."

"Really?" he said, "Can you tell me more during breakfast?"

His mother winked, lighting the mood slightly further with a small laugh, "maybe."

And she left the room.

* * *

><p>"Maes," someone patted the boy's shoulder, "it's time to get up."<p>

The boy opened his ice-blue eyes to see gold ones peering down at him, still full of sleep.

"Dad?" he murmured after a yawn, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"We need to be at Fuhrer Olivier's mansion in fifteen minutes," Edward said as he turned to head for the dorm's bathroom, "Al's asleep. Don't wake him up 'cause he's not coming."

Maes was still too out of it to be annoyed at his father for giving him only a short time to get ready, so he rubbed his eyes and stood up, stretching his arms.

With a quick glance at his sleeping uncle, Maes reached for his own suitcase and pulled out his clothes for the day. He was visiting the Fuhrer's house, so it obviously had to be formal-looking. But, growing up in the country where it was muddy and dirty, suits weren't usually what one would wear. He didn't have any.

After some thought, the boy selected a black, long sleeved shirt with white accents over a matching tank top. The neck was a little tight, but it wasn't going to choke him.

The only trousers he seemed to have were black leather, which was funny because he remembered packing more, so he slipped them on and tightened the waist with a brown belt. His boots were suddenly slightly a bit small for him, but he was too rushed to care.

"Brother? Have you shrunk?" a startled voice came from behind him and Maes twisted round to see Alphonse sitting up in his bed, a look of confusion on his face as he rubbed his eyes. He must have woken up anyway. The man blinked at him, slowly registering the boy's features.

"Oh, Maes, it's you," a look of realisation spread across his face and he grinned, "you're wearing brother's clothes from when he was your age."

"Am I? But this is my…" he trailed off when he looked down at the suitcase. It was the second one Edward had taken with him.

Maes quickly began to undo the button on the shirt, but the sound of his father's voice stopped him.

"No," Ed stopped him, poking his head through the bathroom door with a toothbrush in his mouth, "keep it on. I wanted to you have it anyway." The blonde man nodded to the open case, "and the gloves too, put them on."

The boy hesitantly did as he was told, still not sure if he liked the outfit or not.

"You know," Al said to him, "if you put your hair into a braid and let more of it loose around your face, you'd be the splitting image of Brother. Except with blue eyes, of course."

Maes did the second part, but he paused when he reached for something to tie up his hair with.

"Uncle Al," he said quietly, "I…I can't do braids."

The man gave a soft smile and pushed himself clumsily out of bed, making his way over to his nephew.

Maes handed him the red band and turned around so his uncle could sort his hair.

"It's easy once you've practiced," Al said, picking up the boy's hair in his hands, "you split it into three and take turns folding the sides into the middle. Watch."

The boy watched in the mirror as his Alphonse slowly formed his hair into a braid, beginning to understand how it worked.

It was strange, he thought, that even though he had only known his uncle for a very short length of time, he felt like he had known him forever.

Soon, Al had finished and took a step back to admire his work. Edward was in the room now, too, a towel around his neck from where he had been drying his face.

"One more thing," his father said as he moved closer to his son.

"Hey, what are you-" Maes began to protest but then he was cut off when Ed used his damp fingers to take a small clump of hair from one of the boy's bangs and smooth it upright, until it stuck in the air.

They stayed there for a moment, Maes flushing red out of a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment while refusing to meet Edward's eyes.

And, all during this short time, a small, wistful smile was visible on Edward's face.

_Brother's the only father you're going to get._

_When Winry had Maes I was so happy – I knew he would give me a chance to be a better father than Hohenheim. This is the exact opposite of how I dreamed he was supposed to grow up._

Thoughts echoed through Maes' head and he tried to push them away, another burning question in his mind that he felt the need to know.

"Why did you pack this stuff anyway?"

"I needed them for Selim," Ed replied with a shrug, slightly disappointed that that was Maes had asked, "actually, the fact that you're wearing them is even better. You can help."

"How does wearing your old clothes help?" the boy frowned, "and it's not like you had the best sense of style, either. Seriously – leather? It's so… weird."

Ed couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, strangely pleased that his son had gone back to giving him rude remarks. It felt unnatural without them, and, as much as he had liked that quiet moment the two of them (plus Alphonse) had shared, he didn't think it would ever feel right to be like that permanently.

"I'm going to finish getting dressed," the blonde man announced, "and then we're leaving. Maes, be ready."

Maes grunted and tightened 'his' boots, walking over to stand by the door.

Alphonse, a subtle smile etched into his face, plodded back over to his bed without getting out of his pyjamas and sat down, only wishing things could have always been like this.

* * *

><p>"Selim," his mother said as she placed her spoon back on the table, "you did this yesterday, too. Please eat, sweetie, it's not healthy to keep starving yourself like this."<p>

The black haired boy was looking down at his toast in a distracted way just like the day before, expect this time for a different reason. His initial thought was that it was because Elysia was missing, but the more he thought, the more he was sure it was something else.

The woman leaned forward with a worried sigh and ran her fingers through his hair, the bottom of her hand brushing his faded birthmark.

Selim used his spoon to draw invisible circles on the table in front of him, and instead of looking up to ask Mrs. Bradley his burning question, he kept his gaze fixed on anything but her eyes.

"Mother…what was Father like? I mean, _really_ like. You never… tell me much."

There was silence for a while and the boy guessed that she opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to work out what to say.

"He was a… kind and caring man," she continued to stroke his head as she spoke, but he noticed that maybe she was becoming the slightest bit for forceful, as if protecting him, "he was brave and always stood up for me."

"So why did he leave you?"

"I don't know, darling. I really don't."

A drop of something landed on the wooden surface in front of him and he looked up, finally letting his purple eyes look into hers.

Mother was crying.

Mother was _actually crying._

He blinked, this all being a new experience. Sure, he had seen her cry before – she was an older and frailer women after all who worried for her only son. But these tears seemed to fall with a different kind of sadness, one that was there on more than a single level. It was very sudden too, as if whatever she was sad about was easily provoked.

"Mother… are you OK?"

She sniffed and used her free hand to wipe the tears off her face. "Yes, Selim," and he felt her suddenly pull him into a tight embrace, "I'm OK."

They stayed there for a long moment, their meal completely forgotten as the boy rested his head against her shoulder. He felt horrible for asking what he did – he didn't know that his mysterious father was such a sensitive subject for Mrs Bradley.

After a while, he gently pushed himself away and smiled up at her red face, giving her a small kiss on the cheek afterwards.

"How about we get ready to go to Fuhrer Olivier's house, Mother?"

Mrs Bradley nodded, a small smile on her face.

"But first," Selim put his hands on his hips, "you have to tell me all about the time when the city was surrounded by ice."

"Of course, dear."

* * *

><p>Maes stared up in awe at the 'house', his eyes as wide as they could go as he stepped out of the car.<p>

"Um… Dad?"

Edward got out behind him, adjusting the strap on his bag, "what?"

"Is this really a house for one family?"

The man gave a soft chuckle and pressed forward, hardly giving his son any time at all to take in the entrance of the mansion.

"Come on," he seemed to speak with a tiny piece of caution in his voice as they headed towards the door, "let's get this over and done with."

"What do you mean?"

Ed sighed. "I don't exactly... think anyone should really be around Selim."

Even though he'd known that Selim was the boy he and his father were here to see, Maes hadn't really thought about it up until now. A flash of the black-haired child flew across his mind and he remembered how strangely the boy had acted yesterday, almost switching personalities completely. And he was fifteen – older than him. Selim seemed so fragile. Was he really that age? Was there something wrong with his growth? He looked like a nine or ten-year-old child. But, then again, Maes wasn't exactly tall himself, he had inherited that trait from his father. Alphonse had told him that Selim's father was completely non-existent in the boy's childhood. At least Maes _had_ a father, albeit a very poor type of one.

"Why?" Maes ran to catch up with the blonde man, "what's he done?"

Edward frowned as he pressed the doorbell. "Nothing, Maes. That's the problem."

"Nothing? What the hell do you mean by tha-"

"Edward Elric," Maes looked up to see an Ishbalan man looming over him, a polite and formal smile on his face, "it's been years. And you haven't grown much at all. In fact, I'd go as far to say you've shrunk."

The boy took a step back, "uh… well."

"General Miles, _I'm_ Edward Elric."

The Fuhrer's husband blinked for a second at the two of them, comparing the obvious differences in their eye colour and face shape.

"Ah," he said after a while, "apologies for that. Please, come in."

As they stepped inside, a butler reached to take off Maes' red coat, but Edward quickly stopped him. "Sorry, I forgot to mention," he said, "Maes needs to keep this on."

The butler gave a polite nod and set off down the hall with just Edward's jacket.

Olivier was already waiting in one of her meeting rooms for them to arrive and she stood up as they came in, speaking instantly.

"Edward and Maes Elric," she didn't smile and her voice held familiar intimidation, but the thought was there, "I believe we met briefly at my usual restaurant yesterday, but didn't get a chance to speak." The woman picked up a folder from the table beside her and handed it to Maes' father. "Edward. All details that have not been discussed with you via the telephone are written in here. Please pay close attention to what I have written. It's very important that we have no accidents today."

"Of course," Ed was already reading through it as he answered, absorbed in the text. He flicked through the pages at a surprisingly fast speed, but it was clear to Maes that he was making sense of everything. Maes frowned. Why was that Selim boy so important? Were his nightmares an issue so _serious_ that it was something the Fuhrer herself would want to get herself involved in?

As Olivier continued to point out some of the things in the folder to Edward (she had barely even acknowledged the boy's presence so far besides the initial introduction),

_It would lead to him finding out about everything…_

A small, barely audible gasp escaped his mouth.

_Just my leg to remind us what we went through all those years ago…_

_Al, now that you're _really _here…_

He blinked. Was this all… somehow… linked together?

* * *

><p>Olivier stepped in through the door of the fifth conference room with an unreadable expression and headed straight for Selim.<p>

The boy looked up straight away and said nothing, waiting for her to sit down.

"Selim, Edward is almost here," she sat down beside him, "are you ready to see him?"

The black haired boy nodded in determination. Maybe, whoever Edward Elric really was, he could sort out this problem of his – he might have answers. Why bring this man in when he barely knew Selim? He must have _some_ significance. Even after the meeting with him yesterday, he still couldn't really figure him out. But, then, he couldn't really remember much from the day before anyway – his memories were so distorted.

"Fuhrer Olivier?"

"What is it?"

"What is this Edward Elric person… going to do with me?"

The woman paused, thinking. "I'm not too sure about his plans for you, but I have complete trust in him. He's come to fix your problem, Selim. And I'm sure he will."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Are you really sure?"

Olivier nodded, "I've known him ever since he was your age. I can tell what he's like."

There was a polite knock on door and the Fuhrer stood up, walking over and opening it. Selim couldn't see who it was because the door was at an angle, but he could hear the short conversation with ease.

"Ah, Belvedier, is that Edward's jacket?"

"It is, your excellency, he is waiting with his son Maes in the front meeting room."

"Thank you. Please continue your duties."

"Of course."

Olivier only returned to Selim for a second to pick up a folder she had left on the table beside him. "I'll be back with Edward and Maes soon, Selim. Please wait here."

"Yes, Fuhrer Olivier," he called back as she left the room, the door closing with a small click behind her.

The boy remained seated and drummed his fingers on the table, deciding what to do next. Now that he was alone… should he try making that voice? How soundproof were the walls? He was in the fifth, most secret meeting room. Probably very.

He frowned. What was he even supposed to say? 'Hello'? Did he even want to find out if this worked.

He bit his lip before making his decision, feeling rather self-conscious about what he was going to do.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the voice deep down in his throat. And then he spoke.

"**I'm looking forward to meeting you again, Edward Elric.**"

He grinned.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey everyone,

I've put this on all my fics now because I want everyone to see it. My writing has improved a lot, and I want to rewrite all my stories, and the best way for me is to start a new account and begin working on the ones with which I get the most response. I'm not going to drag on about my reasons.

Basically, if you want this fic right here updated, put a vote in on my profile. I'll take priority with the ones that get the most, although I can guarantee that no matter how long it takes, they'll all eventually go up, rewritten in all their glory.

My new username is Gilbert's Left Arm, and there is one fic up there for the Pandora Hearts fandom which me and my friend have written based on a roleplay we did together. Enjoy that if you like. But, for now, please tell me what you want to see redone, and then updated. I hate letting people down.


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